Learning Curve
by The Moonless Night
Summary: Movieverse The Autobots, warriors turned refugees, hide on earth in plain sight. Can they learn to get along with their new human neighbors, or will they ultimately be revealed by simple misunderstandings?
1. Malfunction

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** This is my first transformers fanfiction. As such, I am really not sure if I got everyone in character or not. I have only seen a few episodes of the cartoon, and, of course, the new movie which spawned this story. Everything else, I have picked up from reading a ton of fanfiction over the last few days. That said, let me know if I venture too far out of character. Please note that I did rely heavily on the cartoon and on fanfics for the personalities of Bumblebee and Ratchet. Reviews are always appreciated, no matter what form they come in. Thank you.

* * *

**Malfunction**

It was an odd sight, an ambulance and an eighteen wheeler sitting next to each other on the shore of the lake. They had been there since late afternoon, apparently abandoned or at the very least unattended. No drivers sat behind the wheel of either vehicle. The banter of medics on their break and the chatter of a CB enthusiast were absent. In fact the shoreline as a whole was virtually deserted tonight with only a sparse smattering of people draped across the hoods and trunks of their respective cars. Few dared to venture outside these days. Their world still swayed uncertainly following the recent attacks.

A few short days ago, those people on the far side of the lake had come to the frightening realization that Earth was not the only mother in the galaxy. They had learned this the hard way with their homes, their lives, thrown into the furnace of an alien war. At least, that is what some people were saying. Others were still shouting allegations at this country or that province, fingers pointing but never coming to rest on any one subject. Not a single country had escaped the impact of this war. Not a single country had profited from it. Years would pass before the truth became known; decades melting into a century before the Earth populace as a whole would accept the presence of the aliens among them. Until then, the warriors turned refugees lay hidden in plain view.

The last of the stragglers disappeared from the far bank, leaving the two abandoned vehicles to sit in silence. That is, until one of them spoke, "They're late again, Optimus."

Shifting on his chassis, the diesel truck sighed, "Be patient, Ratchet. Bumblebee and Sam always have a valid reason. You know as well as I do, it's not easy for him and Sam to get out here…especially on school night."

The ambulance snorted, a quick rev of the engine, and the headlights blinked once in irritation. "On a school night, you say? The boy almost died three days ago, on several occasions if you don't remember. You would think his parents would give him _some_ time to recover."

"It was his choice," Optimus sighed. "Or at least I think it was. His government is adamant about keeping our presence a secret. I'm not even sure the boy's parents know he was involved in the battle." Sinking in on his tires like a weary man in a recliner, Optimus settled in to wait. "Besides, I've heard that there are teachers keeping him late after school in some kind of lengthy debriefing meetings. Bumblebee mentioned them in his last report."

"Debriefing meetings?" Ratchet leaned towards the truck, intent on his words. "He is no soldier, Optimus. Why would he require daily debriefings?"

Optimus' cab shifted in a vehicular shrug, "Ratchet, if I knew the answer to that I would be Primus himself."

Silence descended, leaving the two Autobots to gaze idly at the lake. Starlight reflected upon the water, warping and twisting into shapes to please the finest mathematician. The fact that Ratchet had yet to comment on those fanciful twists told him that his friend was not finished with the discussion. He was not disappointed as the moment shattered a few breems later.

"Well school night or no, late meeting or no, the least they could do is check in. Being this late makes me think something is-."

"Bumblebee to Ratchet!" The Autobots in question nearly jumped out of their shells as the call came blaring from the ambulance's comm.

"…wrong…." Ratchet finished his sentence, noting the almost hysterical note in Bumblebee's voice. What trouble had that little Camaro gotten himself into now? "Ratchet here, go ahead."

"We've got a situation here. Can you come to the field about five clicks to the south?" A short pause came, the speaker filled with static and the distant sound of choked gurgling. "By Primus! Ratchet, I think Sam is having a major malfunction. He's just ejected some kind of organic fluid from his mouth by the road here. He's been hiding it for a while now, but I could tell-."

Bumblebee fell silent for a moment, his transmitter relaying the distinct click of a car door opening. The Camaro's voice came then, laced with worry, "Are you all right, Sam?" The rustle of fabric and a harsh sounding cough were his answer. "Sam?"

Words listed forth, slurred and thick with pain. "Le'me sleep, Bee. Tell Optimus 'm sorry. Not gonna be…talkin'….t'nite." More coughing emitted from the speaker before falling to static. The relative silence stretched for an uncomfortable length of time, an eternity in a few brief seconds.

"Sam? Hey, kid?" Bumblebee's voice came loud, clear, and urgent. Ratchet and Optimus both slipped into gear, backing out and away from the lake before Bumblebee even confirmed the foregone conclusion. "He's gone offline! Sam's not waking up."

Lights flickered red and blue as Ratchet shifted into drive. Gravel flew as the ambulance and the diesel tore onto the open road, sirens crying to the night sky. "Listen to me and stay calm now, Bee. We'll be there in two breems, but right now I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me exactly what symptoms Sam was displaying before you called us."

Bumblebee answered, speaking almost too fast to understand. "They've been pushing him hard, Ratchet. I don't think he's slept since everything happened. Between dealing with his parents, the school, his teachers, and that Agent Simmons with his endless questions he hasn't had any recharge time. Then there's the fact that the boy's been hurting for days but he hasn't told a soul. The only reason I know is because I can feel him tense up while he's driving. His head, his hands, his stomach…he's a real mess." Bumblebee's voice steadily gained in pitch before he was forced to stop, having taxed his mending voice modulator. After a few seconds, he continued in much softer tones. "On the way here, he didn't even want to drive. He crawled in the backseat to lie down. I figured it was the fatigue getting to him, but then he told me to stop in this field. He said he was going to, 'toss his chips' or something to that effect. …You don't think that fluid really was his chips do you?"

Ratchet would have chuckled if he were not so worried. "No. No. Humans are not like Transformers, Bumblebee. It's likely that fluid was an organic byproduct of some kind. Waste fluid if you will."

More dreaded silence. Optimus was beginning to hate silence, so he was the first to break it, "Bumblebee?"

"Yes, Prime?"

"It will be all right. I promise you that."

Another pause and, "Thank you sir."

Ratchet nodded wordlessly, his chassis bobbing in ways no road could provoke and lights flickering his approval of Prime's words. "Bumblebee, I have a task for you," Ratchet's words were gentle but firm, "Tell me if Sam's status changes in the slightest. I don't care if it's just a random twitch, you tell me. Do you understand?" The Camaro muttered an affirmative. "Good. I will be there very soon." With that, Ratchet muted his transmitter and Optimus followed suit.

"Do you think it's serious, Ratchet?"

"Well, it's definitely not good. Humans are not Transformers, but there are undeniable similarities in our designs. Fluids are intended to remain within the body, be that a human body or an Autobot shell." Ratchet took a few seconds to collect his thoughts and to consult the World Wide Web before continuing. "Humans are highly susceptible to damage. If you think that battle was rough on you, you don't want to know how rough it was for the humans. Did you know humans can suffer internal damage after falling no more than six feet? How far did Sam fall from that bridge, or from that building? I would not be surprised if he had a slow leak somewhere in his system that manifested itself in that spontaneous fluid release.

"Of course, having gone undiagnosed for so long his system must be near depletion by now. I would estimate we have only another breem or so before he suffers from pump failure."

If he had been in his robotic form instead of his alt mode, Optimus would have worn a look fit kill a stone. "By, Primus code…. We had better hurry, then."

The remaining minutes before the pair reached the field were spent in silence, one running through possible procedures in his head and the other preparing words of comfort. Silence ticked by the seconds remaining through her presence alone, each tick of the clock adding a new definition to the word 'tense'. That tension snapped with an almost audible sound when a familiar yellow Camaro at last came into view.

"Thank the Matrix, you're here!" Bumblebee all but trilled. Gears clicked and gyros spun as Ratchet and Optimus both transformed into their robot modes. Bumblebee remained as he was, parked sideways on an incline with his driver's side door open. He was unable to transform with Sam still inside.

Sam's feet were readily visible, ratty white sneakers hanging over the edge of the front seat. Optimus made a motion to move the boy, but Ratchet stopped him with a touch. "We don't want to aggravate his condition, Prime. No moving him." Optimus Prime nodded wordlessly, choosing instead to turn on a set of lights mounted on his shoulders. He might as well make himself useful somehow.

Kneeling with his head nearly on the ground, Ratchet extended a single finger to gently probe the boy's prone form. "Have there been any changes, Bumblebee?" Ratchet all ready knew the answer since the Camaro had not called him, but he asked anyway. It was more as a ploy to distract Bumblebee than anything else. He could virtually feel the tension radiating from the small car in waves.

"No. He's been like this for quite some time now. Is he going to be all right?" Ratchet did not answer immediately, distracted by the figures and graphs scrolling across his heads-up display. All sound lapsed for a moment, save the slow breaths of the human in Bee's front seat. Then, Ratchet tilted his head in confusion.

"I must admit this has me baffled, Prime. From what my scans are showing, there's no internal structural damage. His exterior is still a little dinged up, but he is healing nicely. Pump action normal and fluid pressure within reasonable standards. His air intake rattles a bit, but it's steady too. Save for a higher core temp than I would like, his vitals read like a normal human recharge cycle."

"Why the discharge then, and why did he go offline?" Bumblebee asked, relieved and yet afraid to hope.

"I really don't know," Ratchet replied, withdrawing his hand and switching his position. He sat for a moment in contemplation, comparing his scans to the human medical databases available online. Finally, his optics flickered as a realization struck. "He's sick!"

Bumblebee shifted slightly on his wheels and Optimus scratched the back of his head. "We know he's sick Ratchet. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be offline in my front seat." Bumblebee quipped.

Ratchet actually laughed, a deep rumble originating from within his chest. "No. He's not sick by Autobot standards. He's not necessarily malfunctioning or in need of repair. He's sick by human standards, exhausted and suffering from a cold."

"But, it's not cold," Optimus stated uncertainly.

Shaking his head, Ratchet laughed again. "Maybe Sam can explain it better." Without another word, Ratchet reached into Bumblebee and carefully lifted the sleeping human from the seat. Staying close to the ground and cradling the boy in one hand, he gently stroked his back with a finger. When the medic spoke his voice was like a summer night, warm and inviting. "Sam? Come one now. It's time to wake up."

Sam batted at the finger feebly, trying to sink back to the slumber Ratchet was interrupting. "Sam," the medic said again, his voice gaining the hint of an edge, "wake up!" Sitting up with a startled gasp, the boy complied.

Transforming to his robot form in record time, Bumblebee looked down at Sam with a huge smile on his face. Optimus was smiling too, but kept his distance so as not to frighten the groggy young human. "You're all right!" Bumblebee crowed.

Coughing harshly into his hand, Sam nodded his head. When he could at last speak, it was with a hoarse voice. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Would you like to explain the term 'common cold' to these two, or shall I?" Ratchet asked, drawing the boy's gaze skyward. It was then that Sam realized just where he was and decided to play lichen to Ratchet's rock. The medic loosed a third peel of laughter, his antics causing Sam to visibly pale. "I'll take that to mean you want me to explain. Very well, then."

Carefully lowering his hand, Ratchet allowed Sam to jump the short distance to the ground. Sam staggered as his feet touched earth and he was surprised at the gentle hand that swooped down to steady him. "Humans and Transformers have more in common than I first believed," the medic began, hand still supporting the ill human, "yet there are several key differences. When a Transformer catches a 'virus' for example, they require a medic like me to create and initiate a special program to eliminate it. Humans, on the other hand, have 'anti-virus' encoding built in. They can heal most wounds and most common illnesses without the aid of a medic. It's quite remarkable, really."

"What's that got to do with the price of scrap in a junkyard?" Bumblebee asked.

Optimus answered. "I think I see where Ratchet is going with this. A cold is a type of virus isn't it? One that Sam can heal without help?"

Ratchet sighed. "Yes and no. It's a little more complicated than that, but you get the general idea." Turning his attention to the very confused human who was now wide awake the medic smiled, optics showing a vibrant blue. "Now you, young man, are going to go home and take some Tylenol. If you don't have any, I am sure I can find some. No shaking your head at me. You are running a fairly high fever right now and are need of some medication. If you refuse, then you _will_ be spending the night with me."

Sam was beginning to understand what must have happened. He started to nod then shook his head. "No. I have school in the morning, and if I tell mom I was-." The rest of the sentence dissolved into a coughing fit that left the world spinning.

"That's it! You are staying with me if you like it or not and I don't give a slag if you think otherwise."

Looking back and forth between Bumblebee and Optimus, Sam silently pleaded for help. The two Autobots literally put their hands in the air and took a step back. No one dared to challenge Ratchet when he got in one of his moods, lest of all those who had once been his patients. Resigned to his fate, Sam plopped to the ground and proceeded to sulk as only teenagers can. The medic continued to kneel beside him, producing a pillow and a blanket which he proffered to Sam. "Where did you….?"

Ratchet patted the side of his massive leg, revealing several compartments fitted into the armor casing. "I am an ambulance, after all. Did you think I spent all my time waiting for you at the lake?" Sam shook his head as Ratchet carefully fished a final item from some hidden place. It was a bottle of Tylenol. "I am warning you only once, Sam. I will be checking on you though out the night and if your fever gets much worse, I will take you to the nearest E.R."

Sam nodded, amazed yet again at the dexterity and gentleness of those giant hands. Taking two Tylenol, Sam folded his arms and curled in on himself. His eyes began to droop as his body pulled him towards unconscious bliss. Servos sounded in his ear and Sam cracked an eye open to find Ratchet leaning over him. "You will not be going to school tomorrow. If someone, be they parent or agent, attempts to make you, they will have to deal with me."

Sam smiled, drifting to sleep under the watchful gaze of three, gargantuan guardians.

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**The Moonlessnight:** There it is. Let me know what you thought by reviewing, please. I'm kinda nervous since I'm not entirely sure the Autobot-human relationship has been portrayed this way before. I just kinda figure that there would be a real learning curve between the two races. Yeah... I'm crazy. I know it. 


	2. Excuses

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** Due to the insane amount of comments on this little ficlet, I have decided to add to it. "Malfunction" shall henceforth be known as "The Learning Curve" and will contain a collection of interconnected events involving cross-cultural misunderstandings. Here's to hoping I can keep this up.

* * *

**Excuses**

The first thing Sam became aware of was that he was lying on his back on something that definitely was not his bed. The second was that something much larger than his Chihuahua, Mojo, was resting on his chest. Sleep fled with those simple realizations and Sam jerked awake with a cry. Bright light filled his vision briefly before the object on his chest shifted and a dark shape came into view. Sam instinctively recoiled, his eyes swimming in and out of focus as his body slowly awakened. When a familiar form finally came into focus, the boy fell back to the ground with a muttered curse.

"Easy there. Are you fully online now, Sam?" The boy nodded, wincing as Ratchet turned his head to reveal the bright light once more. Sam hid his face under the blanket he had spent the night under, wondering at how the sun always managed to hit him in the face first thing every morning. It did not matter where he slept or how. In truth, Sam considered it one of the great mysteries in life, but he set the thought aside in favor of more pressing matters.

"Do you know just how intimidating you guys are first thing in the morning?" Sam's voice cracked against raw tissue and he rubbed at his throat gingerly.

"Morning has come and gone, Sam. You were off line for nearly two joors. However, you'll be happy to note that your fever broke just before the new solar cycle began." Ratchet turned his gaze to the boy who was peering out of the blankets, tilting his head at the odd look the boy sported upon his face. "Is there a problem?"

Throwing the blankets aside, Sam sat up and looked to the spot he knew Bumblebee occupied. "Translation, Bee?"

The yellow Camaro stretched, gears creaking from a night spent in vigil out in an open field. "You were out for over twelve hours. Your fever broke just before the sun came up." Bumblebee said throwing what could only be a smirk in Ratchet's direction. "Ratchet might be a genius when it comes to mechs and meds, but he's always the last one to figure out local time keeping systems."

A brief rumble emitted from Ratchet's chest, a sound like that of a dog growling. "You do realize that I could always disable your voice modulator again, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee brushed the threat aside and switched on his radio. "One of these days you're gonna get / What's comin' to you / Cause you're all talk, no action." (Bon Jovi, "All Talk and No Action") A rock connected squarely with Bumblebee's forehead leaving a small dent and the young mech looked up at Ratchet in disbelief.

"Think of that the next time you-."

Sam broke in on the argument, his voice nearly frantic. "Twelve hours? I was out for twelve hours? Mom is going to kill me! Do you know what she'll d-?" Sam's voice failed as a coughing fit overcame him. Ratchet shifted positions behind him but Sam signaled him to keep his distance. When he caught his breath again, the boy squared his shoulders and finished his tirade at a more reasonable decibel level. "Mom is going to kill me. It's as simple as that. She is going to ground me for life and then she is going to kill me."

Ratchet snorted. "Come now! I'm certain your mother wouldn't kill you. It is unthinkable for a responsible, sane parent like your mother to do such a thing, especially when you have a viable excuse."

Sam laughed a short and mirthless sound. "Let's see here…. I went out after she told me to stay in bed and worse, I didn't come home. No phone call. No excuses." Pulling at his hair in a subconscious show of distress, Sam sighed in defeat. "You, my friends, are looking at a dead man walking."

"It's all right, Optimus explained everything." Bumblebee interrupted with a laugh.

Head snapping back so quickly that Ratchet was sure the boy had broken something, Sam leveled a wary gaze at the mech. "What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, feeling a sudden chill work its way between his shoulders like a blade pressed to bare skin.

"That Optimus explained everything," Bumblebee repeated. The blade at Sam's back pressed a little harder, bringing numbness in its wake.

"He didn't…. He wouldn't…." Eyes frantically scanned the surrounding area for the presence of a certain eighteen wheeler and found none.

"He did," Ratchet's voice chimed in. Noting the look on the boy's face he hastily added, "It isn't what you think, Sam. Your parents didn't see Prime face to face. He tapped into a communications frequency your kind use and called your parents on your behalf. They think he is an officer and that you were with him last night."

Blinking a few times, Sam let lose the laugh of a wounded animal. "Great. So instead of being a delinquent son, I'm a delinquent son who spent the night in jail. Gee. Thanks."

Glancing at each other, Bumblebee and Ratchet both started laughing. Loudly. Sam was forced to cover his ears against the onslaught of engine revving laughter and metal clanking knee slaps. Shaking his head, Sam's guardian straightened to his full height and smiled down at him. Sam cautiously lifted a hand from his ear as Bumblebee spoke. "Your parents don't think you spent the night in jail. They think you spent it on a ride-along which, as Prime explained, you will be doing in addition to other activities for the next orn. He called it a 'student work study program'."

"Huh?" He would be doing what for what?

"Two weeks," Ratchet replied, returning Bumblebee's earlier smirk to its sender. "An orn is roughly two human weeks." He must have looked up a few things during the conversation, although Sam could not imagine when he had gotten the chance.

"Oh," was Sam's reply. Head spinning from more than the fast paced discussion, Sam leaned back onto his pillow. He still did not understand. Maybe he was still feverish, but nothing was making sense at that moment. Closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind, Sam repeated back portions of the conversation.

"Optimus talked with my parents?"

"Yes," Bumblebee replied.

"He did this over the phone?"

"Yes."

"And they think he is an officer who is going to teach me the trade over the next two weeks?"

"Yes."

Pause.

Brown eyes open and the boy smiles. "So I have two weeks off from school during which I will be free to spend every waking moment with you guys?"

Ratchet grinned at the exchange, "By Primus, the boy _can_ be taught!"

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**The Moonlessnight:** Short, sweet, and to the point. This chapter is actually just a bridge to the rest of the chapters. I hadn't intended to make this into a multi-chapter fic, so this is a necessary evil. I hope I didn't stray too far. I'm really not awake right now. …And yes, I know Optimus is absent at the moment. I know where he is and you will too, in time. Until the next post! 


	3. The Call

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** Here's the next installment. It's kind of a backtrack, I know, but it's a part of the story that insisted on being told. On a side note, I learned something while writing this.

Apparently, I watched G1 Transformers a long time ago…we're talking back when it first aired. According to my mom it was my favorite show back then. The only reason I didn't know was because…well…. I was only four when the last episode went off the air. To quote my mother, "You used to love the big truck guy and the little yellow VW, but the show went off the air for a while. When it came back on, they had changed it and you didn't like it as much any more." I'm a bigger TF fan than I realized. Who knew?

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**The Call  
**

_Eleven hours earlier_...

Sprawled on the ground with his hands tucked behind his head, Optimus Prime watched and waited. Two hours had passed since Sam's incident and the human boy now slept soundly under Ratchet's care. In the space of that hour, Bumblebee had paced in front of Optimus exactly one hundred twenty seven times. Make that one hundred twenty eight. With a weary sigh the Autobot Prime sat up, draping an arm over his knee. "You are wearing a rut in the ground, Bumblebee. Pacing like a caged beast won't make him get better any faster. Sit down."

Trained to obey his commanding officer, Bumblebee stopped his pacing but he did not sit down right away. Instead, he stalked over to where Sam slept and laid down a short distance away. The boy murmured in his sleep and burrowed deeper into his blankets, likely trying to escape the sound of gears so close to him. Ratchet glanced up from his most recent scans, assuring himself of Sam's level of consciousness before locking optics with the worried young mech. "Start your recharge cycle, and I mean now Bumblebee."

"But I-."

"I don't want to hear it! I know you are long overdue for one. Besides which, Prime is right. Worrying will not make Sam well, and I for one do not want another patient any time soon. Now sleep!" Taking the hint, Bumblebee began booting the subroutines that triggered the Cybertronian version of sleep. Seeing that the mech was obeying, Ratchet's voice softened. "I'll wake you if his condition changes."

"Thanks," the Camaro murmured, the final subroutine coming online a few seconds later.

Watching the whole exchange, Prime nodded his thanks to Ratchet. "I can't say that I blame him for worrying, Ratch. Sam gave us all a scare."

Narrowing his optics slightly, Ratchet glared at Optimus. "Which is why you are avoiding your recharge cycle as well, yes?"

Chuckling, Prime lowered himself to the ground. "I'll admit that a nap would do me wonders. However…." Optimus let the word hang for a second, enjoying the look of annoyance spreading over Ratchet's face.

"However," came the impatient prompting of the medic.

"However, I have something to take care of first." Optimus raised his right hand and tapped a panel on his chest. The panel slid open revealing the sophisticated circuitry beneath. "Sam's parents are probably worried out of their processors right now. I intend to let them know that he's all right."

"Need a hand reprogramming your spare transmitter to their communications frequency?" The medic asked.

"No. It's all binary. This shouldn't take long."

Nodding in approval, Ratchet settled back on his heels to wait and took the time to brush up on his binary.

>> > > > > > > > > > > 

Six radio stations and two television channels later, Ratchet took a shot at cracking the human communications network. The task became much easier when he realized the communications feeds were being routed through two satellites instead of through the local towers. He typed in the last line of code and prepared to activate the transmitter when an odd sound caught his attention. It was an odd, ringing coupled with a buzz that drifted from the still form of Sam Witwicky. A crease appearing between the medic's optics, Ratchet hastily closed Prime's chest panel and went to investigate.

"What is it?" Optimus queried, rising up on his elbow to peer at the bundle of blankets. The sound halted for a moment, then repeated in an insistent manner. Reminded of the alarms that often sounded in the medical wards of the Cybertronian E.R., Optimus felt a sliver of fear work its way through his processor. It did not show on his face, but it was there nevertheless.

Very carefully peeling back Sam's blankets and shifting lose articles of clothing, Ratchet replied in understandably distracted tones. "It's not the boy himself if that's what you're thinking. Humans are incapable of producing such sounds…or at least I don't think they can." Sam stirred, eyes flickering open for the briefest of seconds and he muttered in his sleep. Ratchet hesitated, his audio receptors picking out the word 'phone' in the midst of other incoherent syllables. The mechanical version of a smile lit his optics and he turned his attention to the boy's belt. There, clipped to the thin strip of leather, he found the source of the sound…a Nokia cell phone. Nudging it free with his finger, Ratchet soon had the phone in hand. Now, he only had to answer its summons…a feat easier said than done.

Producing the Transformer version of tweezers from one of his many compartments, Ratchet set about his task. As he worked, he talked, "It's a cell phone, a human communication device. If I am reading this display right, Sam's mother is calling." The phone flipped open, revealing its many keys in glowing splendor. Ratchet attempted to press the appropriate 'send' button, missed it, and cursed. "Slag burned piece of scrap…. Next to this, neural circuitry is simple." He finally managed to hit the button as the phone stopped ringing. His frustration was palpable.

Standing, Prime walked up behind his friend and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You did your best, Ratchet." The medic nodded, feeling as though he had lost a patient instead of missed a phone call. Noticing his dour mood, Prime carefully took the phone from him and laid it on the ground near Sam's head. Standing once again, he put an arm around the medic. "What say you and I make a call before that phone rings again and wakes your patient?"

Chuckling softly, Ratchet agreed before adding, "Considering how well he tolerated my prodding just now, I would say that boy can sleep through anything, but just to be safe…." Bringing Prime's spare transmitter online with two or three quick movements, Ratchet smiled. "Let's be quick about it."

>> > > > > > > > > > 

Bumblebee came online to the sound of Optimus' frantic voice. For a moment, he thought that something had happened to Sam but his fears were quickly abated by Prime's words. "No, Mrs. Witwicky. I am not from 'that group of suit wearing, flower trampling windbags'." The Camaro realized in an instant who Optimus was holding a conversation with and fought the urge to laugh.

"Yes, I am an officer of sorts. …. No. Your son isn't in any trouble. I asked him to come. …. Yes, I know he's sick. No, I didn't know that when I asked him to come here. If I had, do you think he'd be here?" There was a long pause as Judy Witwicky launched into a lecture involving the responsibilities of law enforcement officials and missed curfews, during which Prime shifted his feet uncomfortably. Bumblebee snickered quietly at the sight, earning himself a glare from Ratchet.

"You think that's funny?" The medic's words scrolled across his HUD.

"Yes," Bumblebee replied via text.

"Good. You get to deal with her from here on out." This text bore Optimus' seal and Bumblebee balked. He had not noticed the communications entering party chat.

Ratchet!

Bumblebee shot the medic a sour look as Prime cut in on Sam's mother. "Mrs. Witwicky, I offer my humble apology for the worry I caused you. I thought Sam had told you about the meeting, but apparently he didn't." Prime sighed as Judy loudly attested to the truth of that statement. "Well, if it's any condolence, Sam is an exceptionally bright boy. In fact, that is the reason I asked him out here tonight. …. Yes, I _do_ understand curfew restrictions, but these were special circumstances. You see, your son has been accepted into a special work study program offered by my team and we wanted to give him the results in person.

"What kind of program?" Optimus ran a quick scan of the internet and replied after only a few seconds of hesitation. "It's the Ride-Along program, Mrs. Witwicky. Over the next two weeks, your son will ride along with various professionals, from medics to officers like me. I assure you it is a great learning experience for all involved." Optimus paused, expecting another outburst from the emotional female, but one never came. Instead, he heard an unmistakable squeal of joy. "I'll take that as verbal consent for your son's participation in the program. …. I'm afraid he's sleeping at the moment, but I'll tell him you said so. We'll send him home tomorrow to pick up a few supplies, but after that he'll be staying with us. It's a total emersion program. …. I will personally guarantee his safety. You have my word on that. ... Of course I will, Mrs. Witwicky, and a good night to you, too."

Prime cut the transmission with a weary sigh. "Ratchet, that woman is exhausting."

Ratchet nodded, "I think we found the source of Sam's insomnia. Imagine keeping a secret from her." The medic shuddered. "It's enough to make one's circuit go cold."

"Indeed," Optimus answered. He turned to Bumblebee then, placing a hand on the mech's shoulder and kneeling slightly to be at eye level. "I have a mission for you that is of the utmost importance."

"I will complete the task to the best of my abilities, sir. …What is my mission?"

In absolute seriousness, Optimus answered: "Protecting Sam from his mother if she ever finds out we lied to her."

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** With that, I am crawling off to a corner to die. I think three all-nighters in a row just might have been overkill, but at least I've got the ball rolling now. I think the posts might slow down a little from here on in though. I can't keep up this pace without ending up like poor Sam. . 

I feel like the characters slipped beyond my control in the end there and I'm really hoping they aren't terribly OOC. It's just what hit the page. If it is too bad (which it probably is, but I can't see straight enough to catch it), I will come back and edit this chapter. Until then, enjoy it as it is and don't forget to review. Until the next post!


	4. Booted

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** To all those ho have been wondering where Ironhide has been hiding, I hope this is to your liking. He is one disagreeable character when it comes to his 'voice' in this story. He doesn't like to talk to me until I strike the proverbial nerve, so yeah. Sorry Hide. When you refuse to work with me, you get what you get.

This picks up just a short while after where chapter three left off, so don't let it confuse you. Enjoy.

* * *

**Booted**

The streets were dark and deserted. Discarded newspapers carried on the wind skittered across the blacktop in a scritch-scratching stumble. A dog bayed mournfully off in the distance where it sat entrapped by high fences and a thick chain. Taking it all in, the black truck bearing the name of Ironhide could not say that he blamed the animal. Admittedly, he felt a little trapped at the moment himself. A prisoner behind high, barbed wire fencing held shackled by an insidious device of human design.

Shifting on his tires only to have the device dig into his undercarriage, Ironhide amended his earlier thought. This thing, this implement of torture, certainly came from some Decepticon infested pit. No human could have come up with something so cruel. He was trapped. Unable to transform and unable to move, Ironhide did the only thing he could.

He screamed in frustration, and then he called for help.

>> 

Optimus rested soundly, dreaming in the Autobot way of the day's occurrences. He relived the scenes, seeing the lake, his comrades, and Sam pass before him like wisps of smoke. Their images appearing quickly only to dissipate as the next image took shape, one right after the other until he found himself once again in the field watching Ratchet work. The mech shuddered at the memory finding it much too recent to face. A cold, Ratchet had said. It was a simple organic 'virus' that the boy would recover from quickly. Still, Optimus could not help but worry. Sam was only human, after all.

He watched once again as Ratchet knelt to gently prod the boy, checking for any obvious injuries even as his scanners finished their sweep. The medic was nothing if not through. Optimus made a mental note to compliment the medic on that trait when he awoke and prepared for the scene to scatter as all the others had done. He waited in vain.

The scene suddenly froze, Ratchet cradling the unconscious boy in his hand and Bumblebee just beginning to unfold into his mech form. For a moment, Optimus did not know what was happening and felt his pump quicken in his chest. Then, it dawned on him. He was being brought out of his recharge cycle early. Now, he only needed to know why.

As his systems came online, Optimus cast his eyes to the bundle of blankets that was Sam Witwicky. Momentary fear gripped his spark when he realized Ratchet was leaning over the boy, but he quickly realized that his fears were unfounded. The medic moved too slowly for any emergency to be taking place, trying not to wake the human while he checked his vitals. If it was not Ratchet who had awakened him, then who was it? Bumblebee had retreated back into recharge shortly before he had, so it was not him.

Blinking in confusion, Optimus toyed with the thought of running complete systems diagnostics on himself before he noticed a blinking icon on his heads-up display.

He had a message from Ironhide.

The last of his systems just coming online, Optimus activated the proper cipher channels and watched as the letters began scrolling before his eyes. As Optimus read the message he felt the energon turn cold in his circuitry. "Ratchet, have you ever known Ironhide to ask for help?"

Ratchet almost jumped out of his shell, and probably would have had his hand not been poised over Sam's heart at that moment. Silently thanking his long vorns of battlefield experience, the medic glared at his leader. "I hadn't realized you had come online, Prime. I must admit, you scared me nearly out of my processor just now." Finishing his scans, Ratchet pulled his hand back with a nod. "Sam's fever has broken, I think. His core temperature is beginning to stabilize within his species normal levels. Now, what is that you were asking?"

Wishing he could feel more relieved at the moment, Optimus repeated his question, "Have you ever known Ironhide to ask for help?"

"No." The answer came quickly, without a second of hesitation. "Why? Has something happened?"

Rereading the message even as he spoke, Optimus nodded his head. "Something isn't right. He sent me a coded message just now. I've ran it through the cipher program twice now. I just can't believe what I'm reading."

Interest piqued, Ratchet smiled. "Don't tell me he's driven into a ditch. He teased Gears mercilessly when he did that back on Phraxus." A slight shake of the head from Optimus and Ratchet frowned. "Well then, did he get his wheel stuck in a rut? Did he get a flat tire? What happened?"

Finding the word he was searching for online, Optimus chuckled. "He's been impounded."

Silence hung in the air as Ratchet processed what he had just heard. "He's been what?"

"For lack of a better term, Ironhide has been arrested. He was picked up for lack of 'plates and tags', whatever those are." Optimus added inquiring about plates to his growing list of things to do. "The humans are holding him in an inner city impound lot. He says he can't get out and wants me to go get Captain Lennox."

There was another stretch of silence as both mech's tried to fathom what force could hold Ironhide prisoner. Ratchet shuddered and Prime cringed, their imaginings traveling down some very gruesome paths. Finally, Ratchet pulled a device from a space on his arm and tossed it to Optimus. "Something tells me you are going to need this."

Accepting the device with a nod, Prime transformed and shifted into gear. Pulling out of the field, he was not surprised to hear Ratchet call after him. "Tell that addle-chipped pile of scrap if he doesn't get his aft over here to see me after this, I will personally scrap his cannons."

"Will do, Ratchet." Prime hollered back, dropping into third gear as soon as his rear tires touched pavement. The speed with which Optimus traveled that night would become a thing of legend among his fellow Autobots, but he could do no less.

Ironhide had asked for help and, by the spark within his chest, Optimus Prime intended to be there for him.

>> 

Ironhide tried to enter his recharge cycle and failed miserably. An attempt at moving four breems ago had lodged the device deep in his undercarriage where it refused to come lose. What had began as a minor discomfort rapidly built upon itself until all the unfortunate Autobot knew was pain. It consumed his world, filling his senses in such a way that he failed to notice when the gate to his prison rattled open.

"Ironhide," a voice came softly to his right, "are you all right?" Shaking out of his semi-unconscious state, the black GMC Topkick shuddered in response. Captain Lennox patted the truck's hood in an attempt to offer comfort. "I imagine that parking boot they have you in can't be terribly comfortable, but don't worry. We'll have you out of here as quickly as possible."

Lennox strode quickly out of the impound lot, heading to the office to pay the fines and reclaim 'his truck'. He made a short stop near the gate, reaching into the cab of a large red and blue eighteen wheeler to retrieve his wallet, whispering to it softly. "He doesn't look good, Prime. That's the first time he hasn't greeted me with a growl, if you know what I mean."

"It's the first time he's been held captive for so long." Prime whispered in reply. "What ever this 'boot' is that you described, it is beyond our technology. Nothing we have can keep Ironhide down. …You humans are truly amazing creatures."

Shaking his head, Lennox suppressed his laughter and stood. "Sometimes the simple way is the best, Prime. I'm going to take care of things here and be right back. Wait for me here." Accustomed to giving orders, Lennox made the last sentence an order without thinking and cringed when he realized it. "Sorry. Wait for me, please?"

Optimus chuckled quietly and gave the affirmative before turning his attention back to his comrade in the impound yard. Lennox was right. Ironhide did not look good. Perhaps a little conversation was in order. "How are you holding up, Ironhide?" Prime sent via text.

The answer came quick and curt. "With all respect Optimus, get me the slag out of here!"

Prime almost chuckled. It had been nearly a vorn since he had heard his friend so perturbed when not in the presence of a Decepticon. The last incident had involved Sideswipe and a missing ration of high grade if he recalled correctly, but that was beside the point. "We're working on it, old friend. Just hang in there."

"You try just 'hanging in there' when you have a slagging piece of scrap shoved up in your undercarriage!" Ironhide snapped. "It is rather uncomfortable…sir."

Taking note of the angle the parking boot had lodged at, Optimus had to agree. Having learned a bit about Transformer physiology in the field, he judged that it had wedged itself near a secondary energon line. If the humans were not careful removing it, they would sever that line. Suddenly glad of the emergency welder Ratchet had given him, Prime replied. "I know it is, Ironhide. I know."

>> 

Nearly an hour later, Captain Lennox emerged from the office building with a human woman in tow. Wearing grimy orange coveralls and carrying a ring of cylindrical keys, Optimus correctly identified her as the impound guard. She wasted no time in crossing the lot to the black GMC, smiling the entire way. Apparently she found the captain attractive, chatting with him jovially as she worked. The human male hardly heard a word, intent upon her hands that were prying at the metal boot none too gently.

"Do you think you could be a little more careful with that?" Lennox asked her. When she gave him a quizzical look, he frowned at her. "It's a new truck and my wife will kill me if it gets scratched. It's bad enough it got taken here before I could get it to the DMV for plates."

Thoroughly abashed, the woman pulled the boot loose with a jerk. There was a gasp, she assumed from the man, as shimmering blue liquid spilled onto her hand. "What the-?"

Thinking on his feet, Lennox spat a curse and wheeled on the lady. "Now you've done it! You went and shattered the neon lights I just installed! They were supposed to be a surprise for Sarah and now I'm going to have to go and replace them."

The woman stammered her apologies, backing slowly away. "I can have the cashier refund some money for the damages."

"Forget it. I've had a bad day and I just want to get home." Opening the driver's side door, Lennox climbed in and slipped the keys into the ignition. Ironhide sprang to life with a vicious rev of his engine, only Lennox's foot on the brake keeping him from speeding out of the lot right there and then. Rubbing the stirring wheel in what he hoped was a calming way; Lennox cautiously moved his foot from the brake to the gas pedal and eased the truck out and onto the street.

The impound guard jumped when the eighteen wheeler the captain had arrived in, the same one she had thought to be empty, revved its own engine and followed the GMC. A friendly looking man with dark hair and bright blue eyes waved to her from the window as it drove away and she wondered just how she had missed him. Shaking her head, the young woman headed back to the office for a cold glass of water.

>> 

A few blocks from the impound lot, Optimus signaled for Ironhide to turn off the main road. Lennox let his hands fall from the wheel as the mech took control, slipping into the first neighborhood that offered relatively empty streets and a wide enough road for a diesel. Pointing out an alley to the mech, Lennox tried to keep the worry from his voice as he spoke, "There's an alley up here where you can keep out of sight long enough to patch whatever that was, Hide."

A grunt was his reply, and the captain was soon climbing out and pressing himself against the wall. Two massive Autobots transforming in tight quarters was truly a sight to behold, but he hoped never to be that close to them during the process ever again. Ironhide's foot had brushed within inches of his face. Peeling himself from the wall with a force of will, he watched in curiosity as Optimus probed a spot on Ironhide's shoulder. A panel opened near the shoulder joint and more of the strange liquid dribbled out, as an iridescent blue in the dim light of the alley.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Prime murmured after a moment. Pulling Ratchet's welder from his storage compartment, Optimus made quick work of patching the leak. Ironhide flexed his shoulder with a grim expression and nodded his thanks.

Inching his way forward, Lennox took a closer look at the fluid on the ground. Somehow, it had lost its shimmering quality and now looked like common window detergent. Seeing his confusion, Optimus explained. "It's energon, Captain Lennox. I would search the net for the human equivalent, but I'm sure Ratchet could explain it better."

Lennox nodded. "So, it was just a scratch then? What that thing did to you?"

Having seen the concern in Prime's optics and run a self diagnostic, Ironhide shook his head. "She tore a secondary line. That is something a bit more than a scratch."

"How bad is it then?" Lennox felt like a preschooler asking all these questions, but he had to know.

Ironhide simply transformed, leaving Prime to answer for him. "It's bad enough that Ratchet will have my head if we don't get a move on it." Opening his driver side door for Lennox to climb in, he revved his engine. "Let's roll out!"

>> 

Ratchet sat in the open field, idling away his time by searching the net for any and all information on impounded cars. His first finding was a picture of a booted car being rigged for toeing. He shuddered at the sight, reminded of a past comrade hauled from battle with shrapnel lodged in his casing. The medic moved on to the next site, suddenly glad that Sam and Bumblebee were not present.

Sending them back to Sam's house so the boy could refuel and collect necessary supplies had had a hidden advantage. They were not there to see him cringing at pictures in a very unprofessional way. Ratchet had a reputation to uphold after all. He was a doctor, and doctors required certain barriers to maintain a professional appearance. Not getting sick looking at a simple image was one of them.

He scrolled through similar sites for another hour, calculating the enumerable ways Ironhide could come to harm while impounded. Many of which he did not have the proper tools to treat. Verbally kicking himself for not setting up a proper medical bay immediately after arriving on Earth, he worried until a cloud of dust appeared on the road in the distance.

Just to be safe, Ratchet dropped down into his alt mode and waited. It was a public road, after all. Bumblebee came tearing up the road a few minutes later, Sam half laughing and half coughing in the front seat. "I swear, Bee! I owe you a complete detail job after that one. I thought mom was going to smother me right there in the front yard."

Bumblebee laughed. "I'll take the washing, but you should really thank Mojo. I just pushed him in the right direction." He chuckled. "I'm just sorry you were the one that had to chase him down."

"Yeah, that was a definite drawback. That little pill moocher sure can run when he wants to, even with that cast." Sam got out of the car, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a box tucked under his arm. Ratchet noticed him favoring his right leg, but decided against berating him for the moment. Instead, he watched as Sam walked farther into the field, setting aside his gear before carefully lowering himself to the ground. Bumblebee soon joined him in mech form, stretching out on the ground to avoid being seen from a distance.

"I'm sorry about your foot, too Sam." Bumblebee's voice was barely more than a whisper but Ratchet's sensitive audio receptors still heard the words distinctly.

Sam only laughed harder, "I have two left feet, Bee. That's all there is to it."

"That's physically impossible," Ratchet scoffed, choosing that moment to remind the pair that he was present. "I can assure you that you have one left foot and one right foot, Sam."

Almost doubled over in laughter now, Sam gasped out an explanation of the saying. He was still explaining the finer points of teenage awkwardness when Prime's voice came blaring over the comm. "Ratchet, this is Optimus."

Fearing the worst, the medic answered, "Ready and waiting, sir. What's his status?"

"Priority three," Optimus replied.

Ratchet sagged, sinking in on his wheels as tension seeped from his body. Priority three meant he was wounded, but stable. "Nicked coolant lines?"

"No. He severed an energon line." The tension came back in a flood. "It is the secondary line, right shoulder joint. He's lost a bit of energon, but I managed to get it sealed."

Ratchet transformed then, cursing vehemently. "Get him here, Prime. I'll be waiting for you. Ratchet out."

The medic spun on his heel to find Bumblebee standing right behind him, worry dimming his usually bright optics. "Anything I can do, Ratchet?"

Remembering hours spent working side by side with the mini-mech in the past, the medic nodded. He motioned to a set of standing stones in the distance. "We'll treat him over there, away from any prying eyes. Knowing Ironhide, he'll be embarrassed enough about the procedure without any strangers watching." Ratchet set about picking various tools from his compartments with a grim look on his face. "See if you can find us an examination table over there. Something about five meters tall by ten meters long if you can. In the meantime, I'm going to set up the ECM at the base of that big stone there. He's going to need an infusion of energon before I'm done repairing that line."

Bumblebee saluted and ran off to complete his task. Sam watched and tried to stay out of the way. There was no way he could help move a fifteen ton boulder and whatever it was that Ratchet was doing looked a bit too complicated to comprehend. At that moment, the medic was clipping together something that looked vaguely cylindrical in appearance, but with tubes intertwined in its innards. The process took about ten minutes, during which dust appeared on the horizon.

Sam alerted Ratchet to the approaching vehicles, and the medic nodded. He did not bother to transform, intent on calibrating the device he held before his patient arrived. Thankfully, said cloud belonged to Optimus and Ironhide. Ratchet activated the device as the pair pulled up behind him and transformed. Not bothering to turn around, he motioned to the rocks Bumblebee was just emerging from. "Go to the rocks, Ironhide. Bumblebee has a place prepared for you."

The mech nodded and complied. Hearing a sharp cough at his feet, Ratchet glanced down long enough to pin Sam with a glare. "You are coming with me, Sam Witwicky, but you must promise to stay out of my way. I'd rather have you where I can see you than out here under the feet of worried mechs."

Seeing the logic in this quite clearly, Sam agreed. He was immediately scooped up by Ratchet, held firmly but not uncomfortably between thumb and forefinger. The hastily assembled device made the trip tucked under the mech's other arm. Both boy and machine were carefully placed on a rock shelf near the slab where Ironhide now lay. The standing stones around them made a convenient curtain for the prone Transformer. Seeing the human perched on the shelf, said Transformer grunted. "Did you have to bring an audience, Ratchet?"

Ratchet harrumphed. "You know as well as I do that Optimus and Bumblebee pace when they are worried. I don't want them pacing on top of our little friend here."

Feeling decidedly unwelcome, Sam fidgeted. "I can turn around if you want, Ironhide. I promise I won't look."

To his surprise, Ironhide laughed. It was a deep, rumbling sound akin to a rockslide. "That won't be necessary." Pausing as Ratchet hit a tender spot, the Autobot continued. "Just don't do telling everyone you saw me flinch."

"_That was a flinch?_" Sam thought, while holding up his hand. "Scout's honor, Ironhide, I will never tell a soul."

"You're a scout? What kind? Are you a field specialist? You are far too gangly to be in special operations." Ironhide asked in a serious tone of voice.

Sam balked, choking on suppressed laughter. "Neither. It's-"

"Don't move Ironhide! I nearly fused your motor servo to your bearings." It was then that Sam realized what Ratchet was doing, delicate tools flashing in hands that seemed two sizes too large for them. Laser touched to welder and welder skimmed the edge of a wire no bigger than a human finger. No wonder he did not want the mech to move. Mesmerized, Sam did not hear it when Ratchet started talking to him.

"-you agree, Sam?"

Sam blinked stupidly. "Huh?"

Sighing, Ratchet repeated himself, "I was just comparing the Transformer bearing systems to a human rotator cuff. There are many fascinating similarities. You weren't listening, were you?"

Blushing, Sam bowed his head. "I was watching, actually. It's really amazing how you can handle something so…well…tiny. You're welding things that, in your place, I would barely be able to see." Ratchet practically glowed, motioning for Sam to come a little closer. The boy gladly did so, hoping down to a lower shelf and carefully making his way around the table. He stopped several feet from the ledge directly above the site, leaning to peer down. "Wow. …What _is_ that blue liquid? It looks almost like it is glowing."

Never breaking pace, Ratchet nodded. "It is. Your optics are good if you can see that in this light. That 'blue liquid' as you called it, is energon. The closest human equivalent is blood, which I understand is red. Your species has truly fascinating hemoglobin. Most planets develop blue blood like us, but not here. Your kind is unique in this galaxy."

Sam nodded, not daring to blink lest he miss something. "What makes it glow?"

"That requires an explanation of Transformer physiology. How much do you want to know?" The smile in Ratchet's voice readily apparent, Sam simply spread his hands. _How much are you willing to offer?_ Ratchet interpreted, openly smiling behind his faceplate. "All right then. Listen closely because I don't like to repeat myself."

The human sat down and leaned forward as Ratchet began his lecture. "Energon, as I mentioned earlier, is the lifeblood of every Transformer in existence. Yet, it does not always exist in the form you see it in here. It begins its life as a liquid akin to your water. This water is fed into a sealed system before a proto-form is first brought online…that is before the Transformer is born.

"When the sparkling is first brought online, a pump located to the left of the chest is primed and the water begins its journey through a complex internal network called the circulatory system. Do you follow?"

Sam's jaw dropped open, but he nodded. "So, you guys do have a heartbeat then? I thought I was just hearing things that time I was kicking back on Bumblebee."

"Our pumps do produce a rhythmic noise, if that is what you are referring to." Ratchet agreed. "But back to the topic at hand. After exiting the pump, the water becomes charged using energy collected from the environment. Sunlight is the preferred source of energy, but ionic or plasma based sources may be substituted when necessary. This charged water is what we call Low Grade. It is energon in its raw form and contains enough power to fry a human nervous system, so I would not recommend touching it if you ever see it."

"What does it look like?" Sam asked warily, edging away from the liquid that had collected a few feet away.

Ratchet chuckled. "It's clear, and don't worry. Ironhide is leaking High Grade. That isn't exactly safe for humans either, but it won't kill you. Your extremities might tingle for a few hours though."

"Oh. How else is high grade different than low grade?"

"It is different in many ways, Sam. High grade is treated energon. It has coolants, lubricants, and other chemicals mixed into it. I won't bore you with the details, but it is a long, balanced list much like the protein to oxygen ratio in your blood." Sam nodded again; glad he had taken biology a semester back. Otherwise, he would have been lost ages ago. "This high grade travels to all the circuitry in an Autobot's system, delivering the proper amounts of energy and other things to each area. Its final stop is, in truth, it's most important one."

"Where is that?"

Ratchet closed the panel on Ironhide's arm, pausing a moment to tap his chest. "Why, to the spark of course." Seeing confusion cloud the human's eyes, Ironhide cut in.

"I've heard Captain Lennox tell his wife some mush about how he 'loves her with all his heart'. Well, to a Transformer, that kind of emotion and everything else that goes with it comes from our spark. It is who and what we are, human. And don't you ever forget that."

Sam found himself nodding numbly, suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of rushing energy swirling violently before imploding on itself. Megatron's spark as he slammed the All Spark into it. His hands tingled at the memory and he quickly tucked them under his arms. The event suddenly had a new meaning to it that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with. It was several minutes before Sam realized that Ratchet had continued the lecture.

"-can make energon on their own, the sealed system running so long as the pump and spark are operational. However, in cases where a Transformer has been injured or their systems are otherwise compromised, new energon must be introduced. That is where the Energy Conversion Machine, or the ECM, comes into play." Ratchet was holding the machine he had constructed and Sam quickly put two and two together. He was talking about a transfusion. "The ECM creates energon outside of the body, storing it until occasions such as this."

Giving Ironhide a quick pat, Ratchet smiled. "You didn't lose too much this time, Hide. Five breems should do it."

Sam watched as Ratchet opened Ironhide's chest, fishing out a length of tubing tucked against a black box. From his vantage point, Sam could see the pump Ratchet had mentioned working away at pushing energon throughout Ironhide's system. It was tucked behind what Sam perceived as protective casing just beneath the metal 'ribs' and adjacent to the black box. For a moment, Sam wondered why Ratchet did not plug the ECM directly into the pump. Then he realized the truth. The new energon was being fed directly into the box; it was hardwired directly to Ironhide's spark. The thought alone gave Sam goose bumps.

He tore his gaze away, feeling suddenly like he was intruding into a private matter. Ironhide's spark, his very soul, was lying open to him. Feeling ill, the boy swallowed mechanically and closed his eyes. Nearly an hour passed before Ratchet prodded him with a gentle finger, softly telling him he was moving him back out to the field. Having never truly slept, Sam simply nodded.

Call it shell shock. Call it a waking nightmare. Whatever one called it, Sam could not escape the feeling of swirling energy and the nagging thought that he had extinguished a soul. An evil soul, granted, but still a soul.

Sleep was long in coming.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** Don't ask me where this came from. I no longer have a clue. I thought I knew when I started writing this chapter then, bang, Sam gets shell shocked and goes all catatonic on me. I don't know what happened. I think Ratchet's a little worried too, truth be told. _--Moonlessnight shrugs --_ We'll see what happens next. My plot, while slightly altered, is still intact. No worries. It will get funny again. I promise.

Before anyone asks, the whole energon system and ECM are my own personally theories. I figure since energon cubes were never brought up in the movie and they are organic metal now, the Transformers must have something internal working for them. So, I based their circulatory system off of the human system with a few alterations. It might be crazy, but it's what I see.

I'll have another chapter or so up between here and next Sunday some time. I just have to figure out how to snap Sam out of the funk I've got him in. …. With that, I am off to sleep. Good night, and don't forget to review. Thanks.


	5. Forgotten

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight: **This is interesting. I just got a new computer this week and, that said, have been spending a lot of time on it getting everything set up. It came loaded with Windows Vista, which looks and runs great so far. A little bit of a learning curve for me but nothing major and then…BAM! I open Word to start typing the next installment of this story here and find myself completely and utterly lost. What on Earth did Microsoft do to this interface?

I think I can feel for the Transformers now. I am lost in a very unfamiliar, alien place that is somehow familiar…but in a frightening way. –_Moonlessnight eyes the top of her screen warily and pokes at it with an imaginary stick._-

To sum my Word '07 experience up so far I have one word for you: confusion. It took me five minutes to find the save button. Enough said.

* * *

**Forgotten**

Captain Lennox sat at the farthest edge of the field, as close to the road as he dared to get but ready to roll out onto the blacktop at a moment's notice. A monstrously huge foot came to rest in front of him for a brief moment before it hastened off in a new direction, pacing the length of the field. Back and forth, inch by inch, the foot in question edged ever closer to where Lennox sat. He had moved away from them twice now and shouted at them repeatedly, but they had yet to notice him. Worry clouding the mechs' sensors to the presence of the human in their midst. A foot landed less than a hand's breadth from his shoulder and Lennox swore under his breath. Swallowing his soldier pride, William Lennox resisted the urge to kick the offending appendage and calmly walked across the street. "Better tumbling down the hill there than ending up under someone's foot over here," he muttered.

Picking out a spot on a boulder a safe distance from the thirty foot "hill", Lennox settled in to wait. Idly he wondered if the distracted Autobots would even notice if he ended up truly "underfoot". The military techs claimed they were living metal, a fact Ratchet had yet to protest. What exactly that meant, Lennox was not sure, but he thought it might have something to do with the nanites his own tech discovered covering the surface of the scavenged Decepticon scrap. A million little cell-sized machines that acted the part of human cells, feeding upon the energy provided to them and in turn relaying pulses back to their host. Feeling the beginnings of a confusion headache, the captain filed his thoughts away under 'things to ask Ratchet' and closed his eyes. By the time Ratchet emerged from the rocks cradling Sam in the palm of his hand, Captain Lennox, soldier extraordinaire, was asleep at his post.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** Wow. It's the world's shortest chapter! No. Not really. It's called a severe case of writer's block. Yeah, I know there's no such thing as writer's block so how about calling it a case of 'silence' instead? Sam isn't reacting to anything I throw at him, and until I find the key to waking him up again the next real chapter will be rather difficult to write. Bear with me. This fiction here is definitely not forgotten and (hallelujah!) I have some time off this next week. In the meantime, I apologize for the delay and beg forgiveness. Thank you. 


	6. Universal

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:**Writer's block is still there, but I'm muscling my way through it. I figure, if nothing else, throwing Bumblebee and Mikaela at Sam in tandems might wake the kid up. Let's see what happens….

* * *

**Universal**

Wrapped up, tangled up, and otherwise trapped in soft sheets, Mikaela Barnes snapped awake to the sound of a car horn blaring just outside her window. Two short blasts, but still loud enough to deny her the end of an otherwise pleasant dream. Recognizing the sound as belonging to a particular yellow Camaro, she rolled from bed only to land in a heap on the floor. She cursed vehemently at her plaid printed sheets, rubbing her sore forehead and dashing to the window. Throwing the sash open, she leaned out whispering loudly, "This had better be important, Sam!"

Her answer came in the form of flickering headlights and a door opening to a vacant interior. Mikaela cursed again, this time using words recognizable only to her inmate father. Pausing only long enough to grab her purse, she quickly and quietly made her way from the house. The last thing she wanted at the moment was a lecture from her stern but loving grandmother. If Bee was here without Sam, then one of two things had happened. One: the Decepticons had returned from the oceanic abyss, or two: something had happened to Sam. Either way, Mikaela knew that time was of the essence. Sliding into the car at a near run, Mikaela clicked her seatbelt into place just in time for the accelerator to hit the floor. Pulling out of the driveway faster than any normal car in existence, Bumblebee explained the situation to Mikaela in deceptively calm tones.

"Ratchet says Sam needs you, Mikaela," said the disembodied voice of the Autobot, "Sam would probably say so himself, but he's not talking at the moment."

Not talking? Mikeala's heart constricted in her chest at the thoughts those words unleashed. Swallowing around a sudden knot in her throat, she brought her hand up to rest on the steering wheel. "Tell me what happened."

* * *

Memories ruled the waking world. Pain ruled the sleeping. Everywhere, energy crackled and hissed like an electric snake coiled to strike. Snatches of faces occasionally broke through, sounds echoing dully against the endless hiss of the beast that was so much more than mere memory. Unable to cope with them both, Sam opted for the simple escape. Back and down into himself, burying his consciousness in barriers thick enough to keep anything from reaching him. Even those who desperately wished to help him. Watching it all, Ratchet sighed in utter frustration. "There is nothing I can do for him, Optimus. You know that as well as I do," the medic was saying, "This kind of trauma happens, even among our own people." 

Optimus Prime nodded, heaving a great sigh, "It is the universal price of war, I'm afraid. Let's just hope Mikaela can pull him out of it."

Ratchet nodded in agreement, casting a furtive glance at the rocks where Ironhide lay hidden. Since the episode had begun in Ironhide's presence, Ratchet felt it best to keep him away from Sam for the moment. The boy would have to approach him on his own, and in his own good time. Optimus' pacing brought Ratchet's gaze back to scene in front of him and his shoulders slumped in further defeat. "Optimus, you are wearing a trough in the ground. What is it you told Bumblebee last night? 'Pacing like a caged beast won't make him get better any faster.'"

Optimus ceased his pacing, settling on the ground near the boy instead. "I know, Ratch. I know." Sitting this close, Optimus could hear the words the boy muttered under his breath. They were not pretty and he soon tuned his audio receptors to negate the sound. "He truly didn't know what it was I asked of him when I gave him the All Spark," Optimus paused in thought, "He still doesn't know."

A noncommittal harrumph came from deep within Ratchet's chest as the Hummer spread his hands wide. "You couldn't have known the boy would react like this, Prime. Blaming yourself for it will leave you no better off than he is." Catching a bit of what the boy was muttering Ratchet could not keep the cringe from his face.

Catching the brief expression on the medic's face, Optimus smirked. "You think that's bad? You missed the bit about the 'human pet'. Megatron told him some horrible things, Ratchet." Optimus stroked the human's back gently with a finger, optics faded in guilt. "I only hope Mikaela can reach him because, Primus help me, I can't forgive myself if the boy comes to further harm."

Ratchet raised his hand, preparing to launch into a tirade reiterating his early admonishment, when the sound of squealing tires caught his attention. Bumblebee had arrived.

* * *

Energy crackled, burning flesh to leave intricate marks permanently engraved on the hands that wielded it. Blue and white, spark to spark, the distance between life and death closed steadily despite the pain the made the hands shake. A meter, a foot, an inch, until finally the two colors met in a rush of torrential power. Blue and white, white and blue, a hissing snake biting its own tail in its fury. Finally the snake took a great gulp of air, eating itself in the process. 

All fell to darkness and Sam cried.

He cried for the energy that had screamed so loudly for life. He cried for hands forever marked for their deed. He cried for Megatron and he cried for himself. He cried because, if he did not cry, the very darkness around him would consume his very soul, just as it had devoured the spark in Megatron's chest.

"Sam?" The voice came like light from above, honeyed sweetness that danced upon his senses. "Sam, can you hear me?"

The tears slowed as brown eyes searched briefly for the source of that heavenly voice.

"I'm right here, Sam. I'm right beside you. Can you see me?"

Sam turned and, sure enough, there she stood. There were tears in her eyes. Why? Had the darkness come for her, too? Is that why she was crying?

"I'm crying for you, Sam. Is that so hard to believe?" Her hand came to rest on his cheek and Sam pulled back. She should not touch him. Not after what he had done. Her hand returned, insistent but gentle, and he relished in its coolness. This was not the energy that burned him, nor was it the darkness. It was her. It was Mikaela.

"Are you awake, Sam? Are you listening to me?" He nodded, unable to answer otherwise. He would not, could not, deny that voice. "Then listen to me now, Samuel Witwicky. You did nothing wrong. You did only what you had to survive. There is _nothing_ wrong with that. You hear me? Nothing wrong at all, Sam."

But he…the spark…Megatron was…and….

A second hand joined the first, this one large enough to cradle his entire body from head to foot. "She's right, Sam. Listen to her."

Was that Bumblebee? Craning his head back, Sam saw Bumblebee's face swim into focus. "But I-."

"Megatron is not dead, Sam." The boy's head snapped up, eyes wide as the memory played once more.

"He is. I saw it. I-I-." Voice cracked and strained, Sam slowly shook his head. The darkness gathered once more. "I've killed him, Bee. Worse than that, I destroyed his soul. What good is there in that? What good am I?"

Sam was shocked by the laughter that greeting his question, "Oh, he's gone from this plane of existence don't doubt that." The laughter faded. "But I assure you he's still alive and kicking in the next."

The human boy hiccupped in disbelief, "H-how?"

A new voice joined the conversation, this one deep and friendly. "He has moved beyond this existence, Sam Witwicky. He has rejoined the Matrix."

"The what?" A question was spoken with two voices, Sam's and Mikaela's.

Optimus laughed, leaning in to Sam's line of sight. Blue optics danced with life as the huge mech answered, "The Matrix is the source of all Cybertronian life, the Spark of all sparks."

Sam laughed, shaking his head in rueful glee, "The All Spark is gone, Optimus. It's over."

Optimus and Bumblebee both laughed this time before the Prime shook his head. "The All Spark was a key, Sam, nothing more," the mech knelt to bring his face within inches of the boy, "It gave us access to the Matrix, but it was _not_ the Matrix itself." Optimus stood, forcing Sam to all but lay on the ground to see his face. "While it is possible to tap the great power of the Matrix using tools like the All Spark, nothing can truly harness it. Likewise, the Matrix cannot be destroyed. From the Matrix we all came and, in the end, it is to the Matrix that we return."

"Ashes to ashes," Mikaela muttered.

"And dust to dust," Sam finished the sentence. The darkness was retreating from his vision but it still lingered in his heart like ice. "But I destroyed his spark, Optimus. What was left to go back?"

The anguish in Sam's voice made Optimus' spark ache, and he sighed, motioning with a vague gesture to someone the boy could not see. He learned that that someone was Ratchet, as the mech spoke a few seconds later, "Every Spark dissipates in the end, Sam. Don't mistake that inevitability for death. 'Dust to dust' as you just said. I have never heard it put so eloquently in all my vorns."

"Then he didn't…and I'm not…." Sam barked a wild laugh and raked a hand through his hair.

Laughter dissolved into more tears, but this time they healed instead of hurt. As he cried, Mikaela held him close and rocked him gently. In the end they both slept, hands clasped together to drive back the dark of the night.

Watching the pair sleep, Ratchet almost smiled. That is, until he realized Bumblebee was watching him. Of course, such a lapse in his demeanor after such an emotional event simply would not do, so he opted for a curt nod. "Well then," he said, standing from where he had knelt for nearly an hour, "I'm off to check on Ironhide." A yawn escaped the mech in the form of an involuntary engine rev and he stretched aching hydraulics. "After that, I'll be in recharge. Unless the humans spontaneously start keeling over in the meantime, don't wake me."

Optimus chuckled and nodded, "Go get some rest, friend. Primus knows that you deserve it." Ratchet waved a dismissive hand, not even bothering to look back before he disappeared into the rocks. Optimus smiled, lowering his gaze back to the sleeping humans. He was glad that Mikaela had been able to help Sam, but at the same time something was nagging his processor in a very unpleasant way. Now if he could only remember what it was….

Bumblebee provided the answer in the form of a question, "Hey, what happened to Captain Lennox?"

The sound of metal hand meeting metal face plating resounded throughout the countryside.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** Wow. I wasn't quite sure how that was all going to work out until it was all over and done with. That doesn't happen to me very often. Anyway…. 

As with my previous chapters, all the theories posed in this were cannon based fictions concocted by me. I had to reconcile the All Spark with the Matrix somehow. It just did not make sense for me to do otherwise. With that said, I'm off to finish my neglected house work. Until the next update! _--__smiles__--_


	7. Frankenstein

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:**Blame my little brother for this one. He came through and changed the channel on me last night while I was lying half asleep on the recliner. This is the result as it crept into my dreams. Only a few changes have been made to preserve continuity in the story. I apologize in advance for the spattering of curse words. Captain Lennox is in a foul mood today. So, batten down the hatches and dive on in. Enjoy.

* * *

**Frankenstein**

Bumblebee sped his way down the road, audio receptors still ringing from the verbal thrashing they had received upon the awakening of the sleeping military captain. Even now, the man continued to grumble under his breath, shoulders tensing and shifting as he pounded a closed fist into the palm of his hand. "-and the next time you decide to play of game of ignore the human, _you_ can explain things to Sarah! I just got leave from base, I've been home for all of four days, and I go MIA on her. I'll be lucky if she doesn't make me sleep on the couch tonight. Hell. I'll be lucky if I don't find my things sitting outside the door when we get there."

William Lennox shifted his weight, bringing his fist down onto the seat with such force that Bumblebee gave a soft rev of protest. His radio crackled briefly before settling on a rough sounding tune that portrayed his frustration perfectly. He regretted the choice when a split second later, Lennox's foot came crashing down on his dashboard. "You drive through my neighborhood playing that kind of crap and Sarah will kick me without a second thought," the captain's voice dripped fury and a hint of fear. The music faded to static and the radio snapped off with a sharp hiss. There was silence as the Camaro rolled to a stop on the dark, deserted road leaving Will caught between anger and confusion. He had not hurt Bumblebee, had he?

The thought was fleeting as Bumblebee's voice rasped over the speakers, "Go home in a foul mood like this, and I won't let you out because you _will _be kicked out." Bee felt the tension seep from the human's shoulders and sighed, settling in on his wheels. "Do you feel better now?" A pause filled with the shifting-sensation of Captain Lennox nodding. "Good. Now, don't go hitting me again. Sam will be furious if you scuff up my interior."

Will settled into the seat as the Camaro began moving again, perching his hands on the steering wheel with an apologetic pat. "Sorry about that, Bumblebee. You know us military types, short on the fuse and long on the lectures."

The engine revved in a rumble of acknowledgement. "You are worried. No need to apologize."

An uncomfortable quiet descended, with Lennox falling into his own musings and Bumblebee afraid to switch on the radio lest he rile the human's temper. The silence lasted for a few long minutes before the captain shifted with a sigh. "Something is bugging me, Bumblebee," he stated.

Bee shifted on his wheels in a shrug, "Sarah will open the door, and don't you worry about that."

Will chuckled, a deep resonating sound, and patted the wheel again. "It's not that, Bumblebee. It's not that at all."

Processor firing a few random pulses, Bumblebee radiated the 'huh?' look with his silence. Sometimes, human emotions took turns that even the best of the Autobots could not predict and this was a prime example. "If it is Ironhide that you are worried about, he's fine and-."

Captain Lennox shook his head with a smile, "It just hit me that I don't know how Sam explained you to his father. He left home with a beat up 1964 Camaro and came home with a brand new 2009 Camaro. I imagine it took some creative story-telling to explain that without compromising your cover." The laughter died as Bumblebee slammed on the breaks, seatbelt going tight against Lennox's abdomen for a few seconds before quickly loosening. "What the hell?"

The engine idled for a moment before Bumblebee answered, his voice pitched low. "He blamed it all on Doctor Frankenstein."

Blinking in confusion as the car started moving again, Lennox cocked an eyebrow. "Sam blamed the switch on a fictional character?"

Bumblebee shook with what Lennox perceived as a shudder. "Oh, he's real all right and Sam used him as a scapegoat."

William Lennox balked, the image of a wild-haired scientist and lightning bolts running through his head. When he pictured said scientist offering a teenage boy a shining new yellow Camaro, the image shattered. "There is no way Sam's folks believed that one, not in a million years."

"Sam's mother was skeptical, but his father took it well. He even gave Sam a…what did Sam call it…a 'high five'. He said Sam was one lucky kid and asked if he could take me around the block a couple of times."

Lennox dropped his head back against the seat and dragged a hand over his face. Just how gullible were that kid's parents? They probably believed Elvis was alive and living in a secret moon base if they swallowed that bit about Doctor Frankenstein. Lord help them if they ever found out about the Autobots. There would be no convincing them they were anything but aliens. Sensing the tension seeping back into Lennox's shoulders, Bumblebee continued his explanation in more detail. "Sam put a lot of thought into his explanation, Captain Lennox. He tried several different scenarios before settling on the Frankenstein approach."

Barking a laugh, Lennox let his hands drop to the seat. "Like what? The Blue Fairy waved her magic wand and, poof, he had a new car?"

"No," the reply came so quick that Lennox feared another sudden stop. None came. "One theory involved the government giving him a new car for damage done to the 'impounded' vehicle." Captain Lennox opened his mouth to say just how plausible that was when Bumblebee continued. "His mother never would have accepted it. The government didn't cover her roses or any other damage to her home, so shy would they give Sam a nice new car? So, that excuse was rejected.

"Next up was the mechanic scenario. He planned to tell his parents that he had taken his old car to a mechanic to have it repaired and that said mechanic had a love of classic cars. In that scenario, the mechanic made a trade with Sam. The 1964 Camaro for a new car he had just gotten." Lennox nodded at yet another logical set-up, wondering just why this one was rejected. "Sam only works part-time, so he doesn't have the money to pay a mechanic in the first place. His father would be suspicious, so the mechanic plan was scrapped.

"The third and final plan," Bumblebee continued with another shudder, "is where Doctor Frankenstein comes in."

Lennox leaned forward in his seat like a kid listening to a ghost story. "And just how was that, Bumblebee?"

"From California via MTV," was the answer. "Frankenstein has a show on television where he does custom work on cars of all makes and types. Sam watches it every week with his father. It is…disturbing to say the least."

Confusion clouded Will's features for a moment before he remembered a late night show called "Pimp My Ride". He had stumbled across it once himself a few nights ago while rocking a fussy baby Anabelle to sleep. Nearly doubled up with laughter as he realized the truth, Lennox gasped through watery eyes, "The man's name isn't Doctor Frankenstein, Bumblebee. It's Xhibit."

Images of half dismantled cars, welding torches, and other instruments of automotive mayhem flashing through his processor, Bumblebee shuddered again. "No. He is a torch wielding, slag-happy pit demon. He took a fragging truck apart in under an hour. Like I said, the man is Doctor Frankenstein."

The rest of the ride to the Lennox residence was filled with laughter and friendly jabs on Lennox's part, all of which Bumblebee took in stride. He could not blame the human for not understanding his disgust and, after all, Jazz would have loved Frankenstein's show.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** Yeah…. Don't kill me. This is madness. I swear! – _sheepish__ smile_ – Well, I did say it would get funny again, didn't I? See you next chapter. 

Edit Note: Fixed the year for Bumblebee's alt form. Sorry for the confusion. I know nothing of cars beyond fuel, oil, and changing a tire. Changed the Lennox baby's name, too.

Edit the second: By Primus! Why didn't someone tell me I had misspelled "Camaro"? I have no beta-reader guys, so if anyone spots those little spelling errors in any of my texts, let me know so I can fix them. Thanks. --_wanders of to look for more things to fix_--


	8. Boys

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight: **To all those who think Sam is a wimp for what happens here, please step back and review the circumstances. This started three days after the battle with him still in a state of shock from it. He was/is sick with the flu (yes, I misinterpreted the symptoms as, subsequently, did Ratchet) and was exhausted. Now, it's two days later. He's just starting to get over the worst of his symptoms and has been through proverbial heck emotionally trying to come to terms with the whole soul/death thing. Sam is no wimp. He is just battered and a little out of it at the moment. No worries though. He will come around with time. I promise.

* * *

**Boys**

The following morning –

Optimus Prime ran a hand over his face in an approximation of human frustration. Before him sat a very apologetic looking pair of mechs and one nearly irate human boy, all of whom were dripping wet at the moment. Voice worn to a weary drawl, Optimus sighed, "For clarity's sake Ironhide, will you explain again? I am still having a little trouble sorting through Sam's explanation of events."

Standing at attention, Ironhide did not so much as shift his feet even though the water seeping into sensitive innards made him itch to. Having the human he had so recently come to terms with glaring at him in a decidedly unpleasant way did not help the matter either. Despite this, he gathered his soldier pride and stated simply, "Sir, I believed that the human was in danger and I did what was required to extricate him from the situation."

"I was taking a bath, you hunk of tin! I explained that to you before I went in. Bumblebee explained it. Ratchet explained it." Sam gestured wildly with his hands as he talked, one hand dropping occasionally to keep the baggy sweatpants he was wearing from slipping too far down his waist. "Besides that, what possible danger could there be in the lake at five in the flipping morning other than freezing cold water? What is worth plucking me out of the water like some blasted toy and scaring the blazes out of me? Explain!"

Bumblebee offered a quick hologram of a wide-eyed Sam, dangling from Ironhide's grip some ten feet above the water. The boy slipped from the metal grasp to land with a tremendous splash just before the image faded from the air. Now Ironhide shifted his feet, optics flickering once in embarrassment, "I was unaware that humans had aquatic capabilities, Witwicky."

Sam blinked, trying to translate Ironhide's words into something his teenage mind could manage. At his side Bumblebee giggled, a strangely musical sound for a mech, and remarked, "He thought that just because he sinks like a rock, you would too."

Hide did not take that remark well, hand lashing out to smack the mini-bot squarely upside his head. "What was I supposed to think? The idea of humans swimming chars my chips. They have no fins or any other aquatic attributes to support the fact. Slag it! Their air filters flood easier than ours do."

Bumblebee retaliated by playing a quick sound-bite and ducking out of reach. "Remindin' them of everything they're never gonna be /May be the beginning of a world war three / Cause the world ain't ready for nothing like Y-O-U."

Sam scrambled out of the way Ironhide lunged at Bumblebee, one massive foot landing a scant few inches from his face. Choosing a direction away from the grate of metallic gears, he ran for the rocks. Twisting between intermittent clashes of mechanized arms and/or legs, he nearly made it to his goal when a familiar yellow foot landed in his path. Unable to jump or otherwise dodge it he backpedalled, pitching himself into the air and twisting in an almost complete summersault which ended with him lying flat on his back. Air escaped his lungs in a rush and, in that painful few seconds before he could breathe again, Sam felt the ground shudder and give way underneath him. He closed his eyes and his body tensed, preparing for an impact that never came. Gasping as he opened his eyes, the boy found himself eye to optic with a very concerned looking CMO. "Have your systems successfully reset, Sam?"

The teen nodded in a numb trance. "T-thank you, R-Ratchet," he gulped the words out between hiccupping breaths, "I'll b-be fine in a m-minute."

Giving a quick nod the medic stood to his full height, carefully balancing the recovering boy in the palm of his hand. The ground was no place for humans in the presence of Autobots. That much, of that Ratchet felt certain. Optics flashing a blue just shy of white, Ratchet glared down at the mechs still hunched mid-struggle on the ground. Bumblebee valiantly holding Ironhide's fist mere microns from his faceplate and Optimus clinging desperately to Ironhide's other arm. Just when Prime had gotten into the fray, Ratchet neither knew nor cared.

"Well?" A single word, but one spoken with such authority that even Optimus cringed.

Optimus Prime opened his mouth to speak and Ratchet cut him off with a single sharp click, like the cluck of a tongue. "I don't want to hear excuses or even an apology at the moment, Prime. There is a massive size difference between our kind and the humans, and even the most innocent scuffle in their proximity puts them at risk of injury or death." Seeing the fear in Bumblebee's optics, Ratchet tilted his hand just enough to reveal Sam beginning to sit up, continuing his lecture without a pause. "Until you three realize that and can behave like fully functional mechs instead of sparklings, Sam and I will find matters to attend to elsewhere."

Ignoring the chorus of apologies and noting the sigh of relief escaping a certain mini-bot, Ratchet turned on his heel and walked away. Long strides eating up great distances, he grumbled as he walked, "By the code, I take a joor off for stasis and they revert to proto formatting." The sound of coughing drew his gaze back to the boy curled in his hand and he raised him to optic level once more, booting the proper scanning routines as he moved. "Are you really all right, Sam?"

The boy actually gave a breathy laugh, "Between getting winded, swallowing half the lake and fighting off the dregs of this blasted cold? I'm fine. I've never been better." Smiling up at the deep lines and planes that made up Ratchet's face plating, Sam leaned back against the mech's thumb. After a few seconds of silence that he read as brooding anger, the teen spoke quietly. "You know you scared the blazes out of Bumblebee with that lecture, right? You scared me too, actually. …Not that I wasn't a little scared beforehand. I know you guys wouldn't go and step on me or anything. I just saw that foot come down in front of me and over reacted, but I'm fine. Really, there's nothing to worry about."

Finishing his scans the medic sighed and came to a stop. "There is detectable damage to your shoulders, Sam. Sub dermal hemorrhaging I believe you call 'bruising'. Several contusions along your legs need tending and, whether you are aware of it or not, you have aggravated the injury you received to your foot four joors ago. I can assure you that you won't feel 'fine' an hour from now." Feeling Sam tense a little and noticing the slight increase in his respiratory rate, Ratchet sighed again. "Yes, Sam. I just ran a scan on you. No, Sam. I will not refrain from doing so in the future. I'm a medic. Taking and interpreting scans is what I was programmed to do. If you don't like it, take it up with the Matrix for giving me the empathy of a healer.

"The point is that if I did not 'lecture' them as you put it, at least two of those three mechs would not have realized the danger you were in until it was too late. Instead of lecturing me, you should be thanking Mikaela for sending me to fetch you. I may well have just saved your life."

Ratchet continued walking then, the silence that curtained him nearly deafening. Just before he arrived at the shores of the lake where the whole escapade began, Sam gently tapped the palm of the mech's hand. Glancing down, Ratchet's optics came to rest on a strangely cheery young human. "Before we get into earshot of Mikaela I just wanted to say…thank you, Ratchet. Thanks for staying up with me when I was sick, thanks for staying up with me again when I freaked out, and thanks for saving me from becoming road kill just now. "

Ratchet grunted his acceptance and nodded his head. Surprise played across his features when, a few minutes later, the human tapped on his palm again, "Can you let me down here, Ratchet? I don't want Mikaela to see me being carried like some kitten." When Ratchet gave him a relatively blank stare, Sam smirked, "It's a guy thing. Now, let me down so I can walk. Please."

Rolling his optics, the medic kneeled to comply. "If you want to go and cause yourself further pain by walking on that bum foot, then far be it from me to stop you. Just don't come crying to me later when you want some blasted Tylenol to dull the ache. You won't find any sympathy here."

Sam only smiled. Somehow, he knew the scrap from the spares in the crotchety words of the old medic.

* * *

Mikaela stood as Ratchet appeared from out of the trees, dusting ashes from the campfire off her Levis as she did so. Smiling her thanks to him, she waved and cast her eyes about for Sam. Not finding him in the immediate vicinity, she looked back up at Ratchet. The mech shrugged in reply. 

Hearing an odd rumble from the mech, it took Mikaela a moment to realize that he was laughing. Just before she opened her mouth to ask what he found so humorous, Sam came limping into view. Carefully picking his way along the forest floor so as not to step on any pinecones with his bare feet, favoring his right as he walked, the boy looked absolutely infuriated. By the looks he was casting as a certain medic, Mikaela was sure that Ratchet was the source of said frustration. Just so, she did not run out to help him immediately…an act that earned her a look of emotional hurt when he finally made it to the small campsite she had erected. "No pity for the injured?" He queried.

"Not when they are being stubborn mules, Sam. Hungry?" Mikaela proffered him a bowl of oatmeal topped with sliced strawberries. Knowing full well that he was still a little on the woozy side from his recent illness, she had prepared something light for him to eat.

Taking the plate with murmured thanks, Sam cast a fiery glance at the medic. "What have you been telling her, Ratchet?"

The mech put his hands in the air, "Your femme is perceptive, Sam. I told her nothing, but she deduced the truth with the facts at hand, and you may want to sit with that foot propped up. That is, unless you are partial to stiffened ligaments."

Without a word, Sam shifted his weight to prop his foot on a nearby rock. Mikaela, meanwhile, took the whole scene in with quiet laughter. She watched Sam eat for a moment before getting up and picking a few items out of the box she had procured from the field earlier that morning. Choosing an over sized t-shirt, blue in color, she threw it at Sam. He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed, "It's not that I don't like seeing you without your shirt, but I don't want you getting sick on me again. Just put it on, hero, and don't give your doctor here such a hard time or I won't bring you dinner tonight."

Earning a death glare for her comments, Mikaela rolled her eyes and strode over to the giant mech now sitting near the tree line. "Boys will by boys, huh Ratchet?" She said with a knowing smile. "Sometimes though, all you need to do and point them in the right direction and give them a little room."

Watching the girl disappear into the trees, Ratchet was amazed at both her astute assessments and at her simplicity of speech. Shaking his head, he smiled and turned his gaze back to Sam who was now wriggling his way into his t-shirt. "Yes. Boys will be boys, and mechs will be mechs." He paused then, processing her last sentence from a different angle.

"A little room, she said. That is the most brilliant thing I believe I have ever heard. A little room... Yes…."

* * *

**Songs Used:** "T-R-O-U-B-L-E", by Travis Tritt. 

**The Moonlessnight: **Just a quick thank you to Wah-Keetcha for sparking this lovely transition here. I've had this plot in my head for quite some time (since "Malfunction" was first scribbled in my journal) and simply did not know who to work it into the existing storyline. Wah-Keetcha's one shot, "Demands, Terms, and Understanding", gave me the key to it all. Thank him/her for whatever hits the page from this point on. With that said – cracks knuckles – let's get down to business. Update by Sunday or bust! (Maybe even by Wednesday if I can grab a moment to write this out. Keep your eyes open.)


	9. Request

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** Here we go now. Now that the stage is set, it is time to roll out the actual plot behind this madness. Here's to hoping I can get the bulk of this done before school starts a few weeks. Once the classes start updates, unfortunately, will slow to a crawl. That said, to quote the infamous Optimus, "Let's roll out!"

* * *

**Request**

Sam sat with his back pressed to the warm rocks behind him, taking what comfort he could from his current predicament. Yawning, he leaned forward to rest his head on his knees, brown eyes following the pacing mech far below him. Bumblebee did not like this situation any more than he did, but the young mech was taking it far worse. "Did you have to put him up so high, Ratchet? We apologized, didn't we?"

Ignoring Bumblebee for the moment, Ratchet merely batted a hand the mech's general direction. This elicited a noisy engine rev from the little yellow Camaro, earning him a harsh glare from both his leader and the medic. Sulking in the Autobot way, Bumblebee folded his arms across his chest and came to lean against the rocks across the way from Sam. Seeing the blue optics turn in his direction, Sam sighed and smiled at him with a painful shrug of his shoulders. Lifting his head for a moment, Sam laughed, "So long as he lets me down from here before lunch time, I'm not complaining, Bee. I've learned my lesson. Better thirty feet above ground than down there underfoot." The mini-bot virtually wilted as those words left his friend's mouth and Sam bit his cheek in personal reprisal. "I didn't mean it that way, Bee. It was a joke. It was a really, _really_ bad joke. Sorry."

Purposely breaking his gaze with the teen, Bumblebee turned his attention to conversation of his peers who were currently chattering with the many clicks and binary tones of a Cybertronian debate. Their words were suddenly more interesting than his human ward's predicament, stuck high in the rocks where Ratchet had placed him before launching his discussion with Optimus. As Bumblebee put in his two cents in warbling Cybertronian chimes, Sam sighed again, this time in frustration with himself. "Open mouth, insert foot, Witwicky," he murmured to himself, "Mikaela would have slapped me for that one, right between the shoulder blades, and then laughed about it. I am so glad she went to school today…or am I?"

Dropping his head back against the stone and stretching his legs our straight, Sam tried not to think about the thirty foot drop a foot from his toes. At least with Bumblebee pacing he had had something to focus on. Now, only the strange metallic noise of the Autobots talking in their native tongue to distract him from his newfound fear of heights. Well, not heights exactly. Only heights that Bumblebee could not reach, even standing on his proverbial tip-toes. Wrapping his arms more tightly around his legs, Sam put his head down on his knees and closed his eyes, choosing the alien sounds over acrophobia.

To pass the time, he made a game of guessing what the sounds might mean and wondered if he would ever learn to understand Bee's language. Hearing odd patterns in the various clicks and whirs, Sam was surprised when he began to differentiate between the different voices of the mechs. That in itself gave him a profound sense of accomplishment. Sounding gruff as mountain stone, Ironhide rumbled in a disapproving way. Ratchet countered in equally gruff tones but his clicks carried a softer edge, the 'hidden' empathy of the mech made apparent in those mellifluous sounds. Optimus spoke then, and Sam nearly laughed as images of his father and Lennox flashed through his mind. Authority tempered by experience and brought to a honed edge by an unconcealed love of those under him. Then, the true voice of Bumblebee came skittering across the human's consciousness.

Of all the Cybertronian voices, that of Bumblebee was by far Sam's favorite. The flighty whistles and energetic pace made the reason for the small mech's name immediately apparent. Like a bee lilting from flower to flower, Bumblebee's voice slipped through pleasant timbres and resonances that gave Sam the impression of a child singing. For reasons unbeknownst to him, this suited the mech well. The image of a kid about his age flickered before Sam's eyes, sunny yellow hair and wide blue eyes dimmed only by a dazzling smile. Shocked at the clarity of the image Sam jerked his head back, realizing belatedly that he had somehow fallen asleep. Judging by the slant of the shadows on the rocks, noon had come and gone some time ago and the Autobots were no longer talking in their mechanical language. English drifted from the group now.

Groaning as he moved joints stiffened from ill treatment, Sam stretched and made his way to his knees. Inching forward, he carefully peered over the edge of his perch to find the Autobots standing a fair distance away at the edge of the rocky outcroppings, where the stone dropped away in a recessed lookout. Optimus stood there, talking to the air for all Sam knew since none of the other Autobots were responding at the moment. Listening for a few minutes, Sam soon realized that Optimus was, for lack of a better term, 'on the phone'.

"Is this Defense Secretary John Keller?" A pause during which Sam's jaw dropped open. John Keller? What business did Optimus have calling him out of the blue? The answer came quickly. "This is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. We recently spoke concerning our status as refugees here in your country. … Yes, sir. The meeting with Agent Simmons could have gone better. I agree. Still, I have a request." A short pause followed, during which Sam settled in to lie on his stomach. "My request is simple, sir. My CMO, Ratchet, believes it is in our best interest to establish an Autobot camp where our kind may gather in the coming years. He believes this will prevent cultural…misunderstandings...between our two races by allowing any new comers time to acclimate to life here on Earth. Ratchet has also expressed an interest in setting up a proper repair bay. I must say, I agree with his logic."

Optimus paused, tilting his head to one side and bringing a hand up to tap the side of his head. "You will have to speak up, Secretary Keller. I am afraid your communications scrambling frequency is a little troublesome to interpret. … Ah. Yes. Sam and Captain Lennox are doing a prime job acting as our liaisons. Ratchet's concerns are more for future arrivals than for our group here." Ratchet's chortling rev told Sam there was little truth to that statement, but Optimus held his ground. "We require only a small space. No more than 174,240 of your feet squared."

"That's four acres, Optimus," Bumblebee interjected.

"Four acres, Secretary Keller, is all that we require," Optimus said with a nod of thanks to Bee. A tense minute of silence descended and Sam shifted uncomfortably, almost holding his breath. While at first thought four acres seemed huge, in comparison to the relative size of the Autobots the space amounted to that of a middle class home. Surely Keller would approve the request. Optimus smiled, breaking the tense silence with a cheerful chuckle, "Thank you, Defense Secretary John Keller. I will send Ironhide to pick up Lennox and we will explore our options. … Yes, I realize that. I personally guarantee that your government will have complete access to any and all design specifications before and during any construction. Just remember our previous agreement…and keep Simmons away from the construction site. He is one human I just cannot bring myself to trust." A warm laugh, "Yes, and thank you again Secretary."

Apparently cutting the transmission, Optimus nodded his head and smiled, "It's done, Ratchet. Due to our 'unique' circumstances and our recent 'service to the country', the Secretary is arranging an emergency meeting of the Senate to grant our request. Lennox will be here in the morning to act as our diplomatic liaison throughout the process."

Laughter broke forth from the rocks, drawing Optimus' gaze upwards and to the left as surprise played across his features. He had thought Sam was still asleep. The laughter died in a single harsh cough and Sam smiled down at the 18-wheeler, "I don't think Captain Lennox will be terribly happy to leave home so soon, but way to go guys! I was wondering what you were chatting about earlier, but I never imagined it was house hunting."

"The necessity of 'house hunting' actually," Ironhide rumbled. "Ratchet kept bringing up things better left in the past, the dirty little-."

"Say another word and I swear I will invert your cannon absorption coil the next time you go into stasis," the medic snapped. All the Autobots save Ironhide laughed and Sam quirked an eyebrow. Strolling over to retrieve Sam from his perch, Ratchet explained. "It wouldn't hurt him really. He'd just get rather nice recoil the next time he decides to blast something. Although, he might eventually develop the mech version of tennis elbow if I follow through with my threat." The last sentence was pitched low, whispered for Sam's ears only.

Snickering, Sam shook his head at the medic and whispered in reply, "I'd still love to see that." He was rewarded with a genuine smile before Bumblebee appeared to take him from Ratchet's hands, music playing softly from his speakers:

"Home is where the heart is / And my heart is anywhere you are / Anywhere you are is home / I don't need a mansion on a hill / That overlooks the sea / Anywhere you're with me is home."

Not missing the message Bee was giving him, Sam smiled wider and settled into his friend's hands. "You're right Bee, and there's no place like home."

* * *

**Songs used:** "Home is Where the Heart Is" by Elvis Presley

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** There we go. A little shaky and probably in need of a rewrite, but it will do. Thank the dogs for not letting me sleep so I could finish this chapter so quickly. They keep barking for no fragging reason and it's about to fry my processor…or my mind… Whatever. I'm asleep at the keyboard. Hope you liked this chapter. Barring any rewrites when I have had some sleep, I will have the next written by Sunday. Hopefully. --_falls asleep in the computer chair until the dogs bark again_-- Ironhide? Ratchet? Anyone got a couple muzzles? Anyone? 


	10. Squeak

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** A quick bit to set the hunt in motion followed quickly by an interesting little situation. This is going to be one heck of a house hunt!

* * *

**Squ****eak**

Captain Lennox arrived in the field early the next morning looking conspicuously nonchalant about the whole situation. A very large, thick folder marked in governmental blue tucked safely under his arm, the soldier calmly climbed out of Ironhide's cab. Back straight, shoulders squared and wearing army dress, he strode across the field to stop with a crisp salute in front of Optimus. Keeping a wary distance, Sam took in every detail from pressed cap to polished shoes with growing curiosity. "Per governmental consent and given authority by Defense Secretary John Keller himself, I hereby present you with this decree of refugee status for yourself and all those under your command," the captain's voice sounded as crisp as his starched jacket collar, "I also have the honor of presenting you with this list of possible locations for refugee settlement."

Optimus knelt and the folder, seeming much smaller now, passed to his left hand as he returned the soldier's salute with his right. "Both are accepted with the gratitude of my people, Captain Lennox."

The formalities apparently appeased, Lennox stood at ease and snatched the hat from his head with a sigh. "Now, the next time you decide you need something try calling me before you go and call the Secretary at his house. Keller's lovely voice ranting over the phone for two hours straight ruined an otherwise pleasant evening."

Murmuring apologies, Optimus bowed his massive head, "I imagine your femme was not happy with the situation either. I am truly grateful for your sacrifices concerning this matter, Captain Lennox."

Waving the words off with a shrug, Lennox smiled, "It got me out of a lunch date with Sarah's mother so I'm not complaining, and for the last time call me Will. I might be a military man, but off the field of battle titles are just an annoying formality."

Nodding, Optimus turned his attention to the folder he now held and the conundrum of how to handle the documents within. "Your preference of naming conventions is duly noted, Will. Now to scan these…documents…." Paper drifted down on Lennox, who snapped a few pages from the air and then sighed in utter defeat as more followed. Despite Optimus' most gentle touch, the thin sheeted documents had slid as he thumbed the folder open. An attempt at straightening the pile had resulted in the proverbial paper rain.

Sam came forward then, bending down to pick up papers as he walked. He was mildly surprised when Lennox shoved a disheveled stack under his nose and motioned for him to take it. "Start sorting, kid. We've got to get these pages back in order or Keller will have my hide."

Dropping to the ground with a weary sigh of his own, Sam did as he was told but muttered quietly, "I knew this was going to be one of those days."

* * *

Two and a half hours later…. 

Sam placed the last page of the document carefully back into the folder, having just finished holding it up for Optimus to scan. While the mech possessed incredible processing abilities, scanning all 473 pages with their infinitesimally small print had taken time. Feeling every second of that time in burning fingers and sore wrists, Sam closed the folder and carefully deposited it in the waiting hands of Captain Lennox. "Could you do me a huge favor, Captain Lennox?" Sam asked, massaging life back into his hands as he spoke.

Glancing up briefly as the Autobots began one of their swirling, click-filled conversations Lennox answered, "What's that, kid?"

"Have your government buddies send this stuff in electronic form next time, like in a flash drive or on a laptop or something. Otherwise, _they_ can play human easel for our friends here."

Chuckling, Lennox tugged at his shirt collar and shifted his feet, "Wearing this get up isn't exactly comfortable either, but Secretary Keller insisted that this be as official an affair as possible. He would have been here himself, but he said he had an important meeting."

"Golfing?" Sam quipped.

"Sleeping actually," the answer from behind them and both teen and military man alike spun on their heels. Eyes coming level with a broad chest, Sam tilted his head to gaze up at the face of one Technical Sergeant Epps. "How are you doing Sam?"

Epps' large hand patted Sam's back in a friendly gesture, making the teen wince as bruised flesh protested the treatment. "I was all right until you did that." Concerned looks from Epps and Lennox brought a sheepish smile to Sam's face. "I did a summersault right onto my back yesterday and my shoulders haven't forgiven me yet. Not one of my more graceful moments."

Remembering his own teenage years none too fondly, Epps nodded with a laugh. "I bet the bots here had a good laugh at that one."

Noting the youth's nervous glance at the large medical mech across the way, Lennox guessed the truth of the matter and quickly changed the subject. "So, what brings you to our humble field, Epps? I thought you were out in Mission City helping with the clean up."

At this, a grin spread across Epps face. He produced a small envelope from his jeans pocket and passed it to Sam. "It's from Keller and his crew regarding your upcoming road trip."

"What road trip?" Sam asked, eyeing the golden eagle seal on the envelope.

"The one you will accompany us on as we locate a suitable base, Sam Witwicky. That is, if you accept the mission." This voice boomed from behind him, making the boy spin on his heel once again. Snapping his head back to look almost straight up, Sam almost missed the sound of footsteps approaching behind him.

"You _will_ accept it, Sam," Lennox laid his hand gently across the boy's shoulders. "The position was offered to me originally, but I've got a wife and kid to worry about right now. Thanks to Optimus you, on the other hand, have a two week 'get out of school free' card."

Wondering just how Will knew about that particular arrangement, Sam opened his mouth only to have Epps cut him off with a playful punch to the arm. "Sam, my man, per the U.S. government you have an all expenses paid trip around the states riding with your buddies here. I wouldn't say no if I were you."

Finally putting two and two together, the young boy smiled and tore into the envelope Epps had given him earlier. What he saw typed in black and white, brought forth a wild laugh. Reading out loud, he could not keep the excitement from his voice:

"By unanimous consent bill 76452, hereto after referred to as the Alien Refugee Camp Project (or ARC), has passed the bar. In accordance with article four of said bill, a guide of the refugees' choosing shall accompany them to all sites listed under articles five through ten to ascertain their suitability to the purposes laid forth in articles one through two." Sam paused for a moment, making a mental note to ask Bumblebee for a simplified explanation of the bill he was sure Lennox's folder had contained. Sweeping a hand through his hair in growing anticipation, "Expenses accrued in the course of the ARC project are to be considered rendered in the act of offering international aid until the budget committee supplies further provisions. Signed and upheld by all present including Secretary of Defense John Keller, National Treasurer Lee Reynolds, and International Ambassador Jacob Jameson this, the twelfth day of August in the 2007th year common era."

Eyes drifting over the all the official signatures, watermarks, and the seal at the bottom of the page, Sam's knees went weak. Shoring the boy up with a hand on his arm, Lennox smiled. "The bottom signature is from the president himself," he whispered in his ear. As Sam all but fell against his shoulder, the soldier laughed. From his position some twenty feet away Ratchet snorted, drawing the man's gaze.

"A breem out of my sight and the boy goes and overloads his processor," the medic laughed, "Typical."

* * *

Later that day…. 

The oddest car caravan in existence sped down the interstate, kicking up a sizable cloud of dust in their wake. Led by an eighteen-wheeler and including an ambulance in its ranks, said caravan would have drawn many strange looks if anyone had seen them. Thankfully, the roads were relatively empty at the moment and the sole driver in the four car procession would not have it any other way.

Sam reclined in Bumblebee's seat, one hand thrust out the open window as he enjoyed the feel of the wind against his face. The stereo blasted his favorite song, a techno mix that the yellow mech had introduced him to, the little bee and dice tapping rhythmically against the mirror as they sped down the road. They had been traveling for a few hours now with the city far behind them and Bumblebee enjoyed the freedoms proffered as a result of a relatively empty road by bobbing his chassis to the music. Hitting an inconveniently placed pothole in the middle of a bobbing motion made his landing mid-song a little rougher than the mech intended and Sam squeaked in protest.

About to berate his friend for squeaking like a femme, Bumblebee fell silent when another squeak escaped the human's frame followed promptly by another. Clicking the radio off, Bumblebee turned his attention inwards, noting the hitch in the boy's breathing with each odd noise. "Sam, are you all right?" He asked, worry evident in the disembodied voice.

Another squeak and then, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" The words were punctuated by more squeaks that ended in a particularly loud one.

Trying to swallow his fear since Sam showed none, Bumblebee asked, "If you're fine, why is your air system registering an audible glitch? It sounds almost like a grease-deprived joint creaking."

Sam attempted to laugh through the persistent 'glitches', even slapping the steering wheel in his mirth. "They're called 'hiccups', Bumblebee, and they're nothing to worry about. They are annoying, but they usually go away on their own."

Listening despite the fact that every other word was punctuated by the strange sounds, Bumblebee cocked an invisible eyebrow. "How did you contract these 'hiccups'?" He asked.

The human shrugged a slight shift of his shoulders against Bumblebee's leather interior. "Probably the little scare you gave me back there with that landing, but who knows? These things come and go at random."

"Oh," the short reply came. Silence descended then save the random hiccups that escaped the young teen. One minute melted to five and five minutes melted into ten. Fifteen minutes and many squeaks later, Bumblebee sighed. "All right, Sam. How do you make them stop?"

Shrugging again, Sam sighed. "Usually, my dad scares the crap out of me, but I guess I could try some of the other methods." Fishing around on the passenger side floorboard, Sam pulled a bottle of water from his supply stash. "Basically, I hold my breath, guzzle this bottle of water, and hope it resets whatever it is that scare put out of whack."

Growing more annoyed by the sounds by the minute, Bumblebee revved his engine. "Please do." Sam did so, sitting in blissful silence for a few brief seconds before another hiccup took him by surprise. "That didn't work very well, Sam."

"Tell me about it," Sam muttered, crossing his arms as annoyance stirred within him as well. Another ten minutes and several attempts at holding his breath later, Sam threw his hands in the air. "I hate having the hiccups!"

"Yeah, well I hate the sound of hiccups, so we're even," Bumblebee muttered, casting his scanners about in an attempt to distract himself. Picking up the signature of an F-14 Tomcat entering his sensor range, an idea sparked in his processor and Bumblebee quickly texted the other Autobots to explain the situation and to propose his solution. Picking up on the mech's frustration, they quickly agreed.

Sam slammed against the seatbelt as Bumblebee hit the brakes, skidding to a halt right behind Optimus who had made a sudden stop. Rubbing his chest where the belt had cinched against him, Sam looked around for the reason of the halt. Finding nothing, he leaned forward in the seat. "What's up, Bee? Why did everyone stop?" The roar of a jet engine sounded nearby and Sam's blood ran cold. "Tell me that isn't-."

"Starscream!" Bumblebee's voice screamed in Sam's ears and he bailed from the Camaro, expecting to hear the sounds of gears and blasters at any moment. He ducked, hands over his head, as he curled up behind a conveniently placed bush. Several long minutes passed before he realized that the jet had passed harmlessly overhead and no one had started blasting anyone. Raising his head cautiously to look around, Sam was both shocked and hurt to hear laughter drifting from the Autobot convoy.

Standing quickly, he strode over to the nearest car (which just happened to be the Camaro) and kicked the tire as hard as he could. Sam cursed at the pain that lanced though his abused foot and limped his way to the front seat, crawling back into the driver's seat. "What was that, huh Bee? What on Earth was that?"

Still laughing even as Sam smacked the steering wheel, Bee asked, "Are they gone now, Sam?"

Blinking in confusion, Sam sat up straight when he realized what Bumblebee spoke of. Sitting in blissful silence for a few minutes, he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, but don't you ever do that to me again!"

Smacking the steering wheel once more for good measure, Sam settled back into the seat before succumbing to peels of side aching laughter.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** There you have it. As with previous chapters, I have tweaked cannon to fit the new movie-verse. This time, it was a reworking of the Ark into the Alien Refugee Camp (ARC). I realize it is not the same spelling, but what can you do? I get the feeling Optimus will change the program name once the base is built anyway, so until then this will have to do. 

Let me know what you think by leaving a review. Thanks! --_grins like a cat_-- Until the next post!


	11. Junkyard

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** Just a few little scenes that won't get out of my head that hopefully have the side effect of advancing the plot. I repeat with emphasis: _hopefully_. It's one of those 'pester you into madness if you don't write it' things. That said I apologize in advance and ask that you please forgive my crude sense of humor in this one. Please.

Unlike the previous chapter, this one goes starts with comedy then switches gears to some deep drama. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

**Junkyard**

Sam fidgeted in his seat, hands unconsciously twisting on the steering wheel in marked show of his discomfort. He and the Autobot crew had been traveling for nearly four hours now, the sun just beginning to slant towards the west, and they had yet to stop. Sam had to admit, there were indeed shortcomings to traveling with alien companions and his ever increasing distress was one of them. Finally reaching his breaking point the boy spoke, "Bee, buddy, you need to pull over."

Confused at the sudden edge in the human's voice, Bumblebee slowed down. "What's the matter, Sam?"

"Nothing so long as you stop," Sam said, his foot tapping against the floorboard. "I've just got to take a leak."

"You've got to take a what?" The question came forth in an uncertain warble amidst the sounds of Skillet's latest hit drifting from the radio.

Banging his head against the back of the seat, Sam only pressed his hands down into the seats. "No time for questions, Bee! Pull over before I blow a freaking gasket!"

The radio fell to static and Bumblebee swerved off the road, tires squealing on the cracked blacktop. Feeling Sam's hands fumbling with his door handle, Bee threw the door open for him. Yelling quick thanks over his shoulder, the boy barreled out of the Camaro and ran to a nearby cluster of trees. Bumblebee watched until Sam disappeared behind a large Sycamore tree, rocking on his wheels in worry.

"Is there a problem back there, Bumblebee?" Optimus voice rang out over the Autobot communication frequency.

Still watching the tree Sam had disappeared behind; Bumblebee replied in decidedly worried tones, "Sam had to stop. He said something about a leak and blowing a gasket, but I really don't know what is going on. He seemed really desperate to get into the trees off the road though."

"Blowing a gasket?" Ratchet scoffed, "There are no gaskets in human anatomy so far as I am aware, Bumblebee. Are you sure that's what he said?"

Bobbing on his suspension in a mechanical nod, Bumblebee replied, "I quote: 'No time for questions, Bee! Pull over before I blow a freaking gasket!' End quote."

"Hmm…" Ratchet's gears grinding out the problem was almost audible over the communiqué. "It's probably nothing, but I'll come and look things over just to be certain."

"Thank you, Ratchet." Bumblebee ceased his rocking, Ratchet's imminent arrival soothing his fraught processor. Something moved in the copse of trees and Bumblebee spread his senses a bit, picking up Sam's familiar heat signature just beginning to stumble in his direction. Intent on the slow, obviously pained movements, Bumblebee failed to notice Ratchet's arrival until the mech revved his engine next to him. "He's just coming out of the trees now, Ratchet. He's just to the left of that big one there."

True to Bee's words, Sam emerged a few seconds later. He was smiling despite his limp. That is, until he spotted a certain yellow Hummer. A brief shadow of fear passing over the boy's features, he limped his way to the two vehicles as fast as he was able. "What's wrong, Ratchet? Did something happen to Bee?"

The Hummer rocked back onto its rear tires, giving Sam the impression of a man crossing his arms. "The question is, are you all right Sam?"

After a brief bout of confusion, Sam's eyes grew wide and his cheeks turned red. "I am so sorry, you guys. That was a horrible choice of words on my part. I just really, really had to go."

"Well I know that, Sam," Bumblebee harrumphed, "That is why I pulled over. _Why_ did you have to go?"

"I um…. Well…you know…. Um…." Sam's face went beyond red into the crimson range and Ratchet ran a few quick scans to make sure the human had not contracted another fever. The scans snapped back incomplete when Sam finally mumbled something that Ratchet and Bumblebee both understood: "Lubricate?"

Chortling, Ratchet would have slapped his leg if he were in his mech mode. Instead, he opted for rocking from side to side. "Well, then. I will inform Optimus to incorporate occasional stops into our itinerary from now on." Backing towards the road, the mech smiled inwardly as Sam crawled into Bee, his face still red in embarrassment. Adding insult to injury, Ratchet spoke over Bumblebee's communications system, "In the meantime, I want to you keep that foot up Sam. You pulled those tendons in your ankle again."

The boy's ears changed to match the blush on his face and Ratchet laughed again, Bumblebee joining in when Sam threw himself across the front seat with a dejected groan.

* * *

Ratchet was still laughing quietly to himself when the group reached their first destination. The papers referred to it as "field 253", but in reality said field was occupied by a very tall, dilapidated chain-link fence with intermittent privacy slats. As they neared the property, Ratchet's laughter went silent, scanners suddenly going haywire as they hit and refracted off a mountain of metal. "Optimus, I'm running blind here. There is too much interference from the local environs." 

"Acknowledged, be on your toes here, people. Who knows what lies beyond this gate?" It was not that he did not trust the American government, but a mech did not live to see as many vorns as he had without being cautious. He entered the gate while still in his alt form, followed closely by the other mechs. What they beheld was truly shocking…at least for the Autobots.

Slowing to a stop, Optimus murmured something in Cybertronian. Ironhide went so far as to transform, cannons glowing an ominous blue as they came online and he backed up a few steps in uncertainty. Ratchet transformed as well, one hand coming up to run before his optics as though he could not believe what he was seeing. Meanwhile Bumblebee cut his engine, sitting in silence while Sam slowly got out of the car. Leaning on Bee's hood, the human crossed his arms, "I'm guessing you guys don't have junkyards back on Cybertron?"

Tracing a finger along the rusting profile of a 1974 Dotson, Optimus shook his head. "No, Sam. Not like this."

Backing into a stack of decrepit trucks from bygone years, Ironhide actually shuddered, "In all my vorns I've never once seen a place like this."

Oblivious to the tense feeling sparking in the air, Sam hobbled over to the remains a Camaro much like Bee save its red coloration and smiled. "My dad used to bring me to places like this all the time when I was little. Back when he was a mechanic instead of a salesman that is." Sam actually laughed. "We used to spend hours digging through these old scrap heaps, scavenging parts for his projects. I still remember the first time I heard the engine turn in his last Junker. He was so proud of himself, he practically crowed."

Kneeling before a puddle of what appeared to be old transmission fluid, Ratchet turned ice blue optics on the human and glared in silence. Gasping at the cold emotion radiating from those optics, Sam stumbled back to Bumblebee and sat on the hood. Leaning in, he whispered to the young mech, "Did I say something wrong?" To his surprise, Bee actually shuddered underneath him.

"Don't you know what this place is, Sam?" Bumblebee asked. The boy shook his head. "To you this place is a junkyard, a place to throw scrap metal. For us, this place…. Sam, this place is a graveyard."

"This is a graveyard? Bee, I don't-?" Suddenly seeing the red Camaro across the way in a new light, Sam gasped as understanding took hold. His hand tangling in his shirt as he clutched the sudden cold spot in the pit of his stomach, he shook his head in disbelief. How could he have been so blind? Optimus caressed the hood of a wrecked corvette like the face of a dead lover, optics dimmed by dark memories. Ironhide huddled in a corner with cannons raised and muttered in Cybertronian, a soldier raging against the shadows of his dreams. Ratchet knelt in a wash of what was essentially blood, hands drenched in the proverbial river, while Bumblebee…. Bumblebee trembled beneath Sam's touch like a child in the throes of a waking nightmare.

The world shifted then. Before Sam's eyes, nearby piles of scrap became stacks of mutilated alt modes. Discarded car doors became shoulder blades, and shattered headlights, blackened optics. The junkyard wilted before him to reveal the world as the Autobots saw it…a graveyard filled to bursting with bodies stacked unceremoniously above the ground. A familiar sick feeling crept up from Sam's gut and he quickly climbed to his feet.

"God, Bee. I didn't know." He whispered. With that, he ran from the junkyard, his foot protesting loudly with every step.

"Sam?" Bee voice called after him, but Sam did not care. He needed to put as much distance between himself and that place as possible.

So, he ran as though that act alone held the key to purging the images that now raced through his mind. Images of a city in shambles and of shattered metal coated in glowing blue energon filled his vision. It was Mission City with all its near misses, a psychological wound still fresh, apt to rupture at the slightest jarring and the rusting metal of the junkyard suddenly grated upon it like sandpaper.

Even as Sam realized the source of his inner turmoil, he continued to run.

Sprinting deep into the field opposite that cursed place, Sam slowed just in time for his foot to buckle underneath him. Tumbling head over heels, he came to rest curled on his side, breath puffing up small clouds of dust as he lay. Heavy footsteps pounded to his left and Sam picked himself up to find Bumblebee standing over him in mech form.

"Sam, are you all right?" Bumblebee asked. He offered Sam a finger to hoist himself up with as Optimus and the other mechs made their appearances.

"That was one heck of a swan dive, kid."

"By the Matrix, I am getting too old for this… Are you all right, Witwicky?"

"Get out of my blasted way!"

Ratchet muscled his way through the other mechs, coming to kneel next to Sam who was now standing with the aid of Bumblebee's finger. Sam winced as Bumblebee shifted, forcing him to put weight on his foot for the briefest of seconds while he made room for the medic. Making his diagnosis even as the scans were running, Ratchet knelt to pick the boy up. "I warned you to stay off that foot. It would serve you right if you had broken it just now, although I can't imagine wrenching the tendons like that feels much better. Now, what was that about?"

"The ghosts of the junkyard," Sam stated simply, "The ghosts of the machines."

The medic tilted his head to the side, confusion playing plainly across his metallic features. Sam leaned back into the hand with a weary sigh, unwilling and unable to explain any further. After an awkward moment of silence during which Sam felt the optics of each and every mech upon him, the boy stated: "Just tell me this is not the place for the ARC and I'll be fine."

Shuddering at the very thought of constructing a base in a junkyard, Optimus stepped forward to smile down at Sam in the Transformer way. "I can say without doubt that we will never build in such a place, Sam."

"Good," Sam murmured as he closed his eyes. "Good."

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** Um… Yeah. The idea for the junkyard came from a review one of you guys left me concerning the Junk Yard Wars (thanks for that), but I never intended for it to turn out like this. Sam has once again run with the bit, dragging me along for the ride. Worse than that, the whole cast seems to want their head right now. Why can't Sam stay in one piece of one pit-spawned chapter? I must admit, his apparent eagerness for this drama-ridden stuff is astounding. 

Thank the light for Ratchet and Optimus, the cool heads that keep everything balanced. Without them, this story might just spiral off into insanity. –_Eyes the sleeping__ form of__ Sam_– That is, if it hasn't done so all ready. What am I going to do with that kid? He's an emotional wreck and harder to predict than a summer storm.

In the meantime, school official starts next Monday. Once that dreaded day rolls around, updates can and will slow down exponentially. Homework, unfortunately, comes before fan fiction. I wish that were not so, but it is the sad truth. However, I give my solemn word that this story will be finished. I will not leave it undone…. Mainly because I don't think Sam or the Transformer crew will let me. They scream louder than my personal characters sometimes. They want to be written, and who am I to say no.

With that said, I want to give special thanks to the multitude of you who have taken the time to review this story, especially those who have been following since the early chapters. Your patience with my wily ways is truly appreciated. Thank you. -- _Bows low._--

Next update by Sunday or bust!


	12. Rust

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:** Just a quick shout of thanks to Epona Harper for yet more inspiration. You are a genius Harper! Thank you. Now, more for my use than anyone else's, here is a brief chronology of events thus far:

Chapters 1-3 -- the first night

Chapters 4-7 -- day 1

Chapters 8-9 -- day 2

Chapters 10-11 -- day 3

Current Chapter -- Night of day 3 and the entirety of day 4

There we go. …By the code this promises to be a long story! We are entering chapter 12 and it has not even been a week yet. Here's to hoping these guys go to some far-flung corners of the nation. The travel time will whittle out the remaining time a little faster. Come to think of it, Sam might even need more time off before I get him back to Tranquility. – _thinks it over_ –

Now that I have things laid out like that, it's no wonder Sam is still traumatized…. It's only been a week since his first encounter with the Transformers. Geeze. Now I feel sorry for thinking he was such an emo in the last chapter. Just goes to show these characters know their world better than I do. Now that this is all straight in my head, on with the story...

* * *

**Rust**

"Just tell me this is not the place for the ARC and I'll be fine," Sam muttered, his voice sounding strained and thin. Noting this, Ratchet decided to take action, silently plying his craft and watching his scanners with a vague sense of disquiet as Optimus stepped forward to speak to the youth.

"I can say without doubt that we will never build in such a place, Sam," Prime answered.

Ratchet felt the tension leave the boy's body as he sagged against his fingers. "Good," Sam murmured, eyes drifting closed. "Good."

Watching the readings on his heads-up display dip slightly, Ratchet was not surprised when the human slipped sideways in his hand, sleep quickly overtaking him. Ignoring the cries of concern from the other Autobots, the medic concentrated on his scans a moment longer before kneeling to carefully place his patient on the ground. "Be quiet, blast you! I finally got him to sleep."

"You did that?" Bumblebee's tones bespoke worry and disbelief. "How, Ratchet? I didn't see you move, let alone do anything to Sam."

Chuckling as he studied the form of the sleeping human, Ratchet actually smiled. "I used a modified carrier wave to stimulate the proper area of his hypothalamus, the portion of his processor responsible for regulating his internal systems."

"That's what that was," Ironhide scoffed, watching with mild curiosity as Ratchet retrieved two pairs of Cybertronian tweezers from storage. "I thought your communications system had gone on the fritz."

Performing the delicate task of unlacing Sam's shoe, Ratchet muttered a response, "It is actually. Had we been in a populated area, humans for at least 300 meters would have found themselves in premature stasis; I need to make some minor adjustments to the narrow bands when I can get a joor to myself." Successfully removing the shoe, Ratchet set to work on peeling off the boy's sock. This, understandably, took a great deal of time.

Through it all, he kept a sharp optic on the numbers scrolling across his vision, intent on keeping his patient unconscious while he worked. Despite his best efforts, Sam whimpered in his sleep when Ratchet finally reached bare skin, tweezers brushing against dark purple bruising. Pausing to avoid waking Sam, Ratchet took the time to fish a tiny roll of bandages from a compartment near his wrist. Eyeing the paper thin material, he sighed. "By the code, this is going to be a long night."

* * *

Brown eyes blinked slowly, struggling to focus through a thick fog of sleep. The muted gray surroundings did not help the fact, encouraging those eyes to slide shut once more. However, a frustrated yell stopped them from plunging their owner back into the land of dreams. "Blast it all Prime, I said no! Do you know what these chemicals do to…. Save that thought for a moment. I believe my patient is waking up."

A flicker of movement near Sam's head caught his attention, and Sam bolted to full alertness with a sharp gasp. His eyes locked on the unfamiliar form that circled to crouch over him. Unearthly blue eyes sparkled as they gazed back, shimmering iridescence held behind silver-rimmed glasses.

Sam blinked. The glasses were lowered. Sam blinked again, entranced. The blue eyed man smiled, brushing ebony locks back from his clean shaven face. "Less intimidating this way, Sam?"

Reaching a hand tentatively towards the man, Sam smiled when his hand passed straight through the man's broad shoulder. The area around the teen's hand flickered like an old television rolling static and sent a tingling sensation up his arm. With a laugh, he withdrew his hand, smiling up at the blue eyes. "Holograms, Ratchet? Why didn't Bumblebee tell me you guys could do that?"

The hologram shrugged, "No reason to, I suppose. How are you feeling?"

Sam settled back onto the gurney; he sighed and stared up at the low gray ceiling of Ratchet's interior. "Better than I've felt in ages except for…." Sam flexed his bandaged foot and winced at the dull ache the movement produced. "Yeah…let's just say you don't need to tell me I won't be walking on that for a while. Thanks for fixing me up, Ratchet."

Holo-Ratchet nodded, folding well toned arms across his chest. "Just don't forget that pain the next time you decide to disregard my words, Sam. Now," the hologram pointed to a rack along the wall behind the boy, "One of my last drivers had the foresight to stock a set of crutches. They are, unfortunately, a little tall for your frame, but they will suffice. Take those and please get out of my cab before Bumblebee's constant questions overload my audio receptors."

The back doors opened then to a cacophony of sounds like no human ear had heard before. Cybertronian words, spoken none too softly, echoed from cavern walls to resound in the ear at unbelievable decibels. Wondering belatedly if Ratchet's cab was soundproof, Sam covered his ears and yelled as loud as he could. "Bee if you don't shut up right now, I'm going to be deaf for the rest of my life!"

To his credit, Bumblebee immediately fell silent and knelt to peer into the Ratchet's cab. "Sam?"

Cautiously lifting his hands, Sam yelled past the ringing in his ears, "Yeah, it's me."

To Sam's surprise, Bumblebee reached in to grab him, barely giving him enough time to snatch the crutches from their hooks. Feeling like a hamster plucked unexpectedly from its cage, Sam instinctively hunched his shoulders to look as small as possible. Failing to notice the human's discomfort, the young mech cradled him close to his spark and virtually purred. "I'm glad you're back online Sam. I have to admit, you had me worried."

Stifling a yawn, the teen raised an eyebrow, "With Ratchet taking care of me? Why were you worried, Bee?" Sam surprised himself by yawning again, arching his back in a cat-like stretch this time.

Optimus answered, watching Sam through narrowed optics, "You were unconscious for nearly a day Sam. A slight miscalculation on Ratchet's part, I'm afraid."

Whirring gears behind him alerted Sam to Ratchet's transformation to mech mode just before he was plucked from Bumblebee's hands. "Yes, well. I had not realized sedating him in that manner would result in such an overly long recharge cycle, but he seems to have recovered from his flu if nothing else. Now, where were we, Prime?"

A Cybertronian debate began after that, Sam held protectively in Ratchet's hand and the other mech's soon swept up into whatever it was they were discussing.

Glaring through another yawn and wondering just what Ratchet had done to him to make him feel so jet-lagged, Sam tried to stay awake by attempting to figure out where they were. The mystery only deepened when he realized there was no sky overhead. The only light came from the various lights on the Autobots themselves. When Ironhide turned to address some question Optimus had asked, the light moved with him and Sam was left to gasp in awe. The light caught and refracted in a crystalline splendor. This reflected light, in turn, refracted from other points to create an artificial aurora in the center of the room. All too quickly, Ironhide moved again and the effect faded back to the darkness from which it came.

"I don't care how cliché it sounds, that was the ultimate Kodak moment," Sam said, still staring into the shadows where the last of the lights had disappeared.

Pausing at the declaration from the human, Optimus cocked his head to one side. His optics flickering as his blinked in confusion, "That was the ultimate what?"

"Sam liked the lights," Bumblebee stated, sounding for the entire world like an older brother marveling at the simplicity of a younger sibling.

Ignoring the implications of Bee's tone, Sam tapped Ratchet's palm to get the mech's attention. "Just where are we, Ratchet?"

"Underground," the short reply came before Ratchet continued to babble in Cybertronian once again.

Sam rolled his eyes and tapped the medic's palm again, "I know we're underground, but just _where_ underground is the question."

Now it was Ratchet's turn to look annoyed, and the teen had only a second to cringe before the medic launched into an apparently frustrated recap of the Cybertronian conversation. "We are in the Pit so far as I am concerned! What your government implies by sending us to places like this is enough to fritz one's emotional circuitry. First that slag-pit you called a junkyard," Sam cringed at the mention of the junkyard but Ratchet kept talking, "and now a fragging salt mine. Do they know the negative effects of salt deposits on a mech's body?"

"Wait, I know this one," Sam said, gently massaging his temples. "Um… My chemistry teacher explained it once…. Salt encourages metal to rust, doesn't it?"

Nodding vigorously, Ratchet conceded the fact. "Yes, it most certainly does, Sam. When introduced to metal surfaces for any extended period of time, sodium chloride causes that metal to corrode in a process you humans call 'oxidation' or 'rusting'. Those of us in the Autobot field of medicine call it something else: an infection. It is a potentially deadly one at that."

Perplexed at how rust could be deadly, Sam raised his hand. "I hate to sound like an idiot, but just how exactly does that work?"

Ratchet sighed, bringing his free hand up to rub at his optics in a very human expression of exasperation. "On the surface, rust is little more than an irritant to be sanded away. A rash if you prefer. However, if salt were introduced to the delicate innards of a mech and went undetected," Ratchet actually shuddered, "I have seen cases that would seize your pump in your chest and make your energon run cold. Mechs going mad, destroying everything around them even as their own innards decayed. Coolant lines clogged with salt crystals, choking limbs of needed fluids. Processors damaged in ways too minute to fix and yet, so horribly mangled that the mech loses his cognitive abilities." Ratchet trailed off, optics dimmed almost to darkness.

The medic stood like that for several minutes, Sam and the other Transformers staring in silence before he shook himself awake. "Optimus, I would not build a base here if Primus himself told me to."

Suddenly conscious of the walls of salt around them, the other Autobots nodded their agreement. Transforming after a quick glance at the bottom of his feet, Bumblebee swung open his driver's side door. "With your leave Optimus, I request permission to take Sam and get the slag out of here."

Not even bothering to correct the Camaro's choice of words, Optimus nodded. "Agreed. Autobots, let's roll out!"

Practically thrown into Bee's front seat, Sam winced and buckled in. He scarcely had the belt in place before the cave gave way to the open sky and open road.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** And there you have it. This took me a little while because I had to do some background research on a couple of things, but I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. Yes, I realize Ratchet practically ruled this chapter but he's been the loudest voice in this scenario ever since Harper suggested it. What can I say? When that snarky old medic yells like this, even I listen. 

Next up is "Gremlins". Hopefully this next chapter will be done by Sunday. If not, look for it the following Sunday. I'll try to keep writing just as much as school allows. More than that when I can manage it or have a bad case of inspiration induced insomnia.

Feel free to suggest more locations. I have three out of five planned, but the others are blanks so far. Yeah. Until the next update!

**Note**: I just noticed while posting this that Ratchet gave Sam those crutches, but never let him use them. Afraid the kid will rust or something, Ratch? -_snickers and ducks a flying spanner_- I'll take that as a yes. -_grins_-


	13. Gremlins

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight:**I apologize immensely for the extreme lateness of this update. I did warn everyone that school was starting but, well, I forgot to mention that I'm a college senior who also works for a living which means I am buried under almost constant assignments. I wrote ten pages for a class just yesterday and I have at least another six to write for other classes before Monday. So, sadly, papers have claimed much of my waking time with precious little time for food let alone the writing of fan fiction. I promise I have not forgotten this story though. The characters wouldn't let me if I wanted to.

Case in point the TF crew is insisting I write this right now instead of tackling my textbooks. Epona Harper? If you are reading this, thank you yet again for setting this muse lose on me. It hasn't shut up for weeks. –grins— Seriously though, thanks for the start of this chapter goes to Harper. Blame him/her for the madness to follow….

* * *

**Gremlin****s**

Sam blinked awake to the sounds of Rose Royce blaring from the stereo. "At the car wash / Talkin' about the car wash yeah/ Come on and sing it for me car wash. / Car wash yeah!" A sponge streaked in and out of his view on Bee's windshield and Sam sat up quick enough to bring on a dizzy spell. Taking in the sight of the multitude of teens crawling around and over the bright yellow Camaro he turned bewildered eyes to the stranger sitting in the seat next to him. The blonde haired youth smiled right back.

Tapping hands against the steering wheel in time to the music, the mysterious teen turned alien-blue eyes in Sam's direction and grinned wider. "Finally decided to join the party, huh Sam?"

Cocking his head to the side, Sam locked his jaw in place to keep it from hitting the floorboard. Sam spoke, giving an uncharacteristic squeak as he recognized the voice of the blonde, "Bumblebee?"

The blonde bobbed his head in an enthusiastic affirmative, flashing a victory sign with thin fingers. Another teen passed behind the smiling 'driver', a soapy sponge dragging behind her. Sam attempted not to ogle the tank-top wearing beauty, chanting Mikaela's name over and over to himself silently. Meanwhile the Camaro tried to suppress an overjoyed tremble that threatened to shake his frame. Settling for turning the music up louder, Bumblebee practically crowed, "Ratchet, this is the best order you have ever given!"

"Roger that," a deep voice agreed in an almost purring resonance, "Ratchet, this is a most…relaxing…way to spend a morning."

The purring gave way to a deeper rumble. Craning his neck around to see where the purring emanated from, Sam gripped the headrest and twisted in his seat. There, dwarfing the Topkick that lounged next to it, sat a familiar eighteen-wheeler. Several sets of hands scrubbed at the massive tires of the diesel which rumbled with suppressed laughter at the touch. Swallowing his own laughter at the sight, Sam fell back into the seat with a shake of his head, "I never would have thought the great Optimus Prime was ticklish, Bee."

Holo-Bee smiled even wider. An evil glint entering his eye, the hologram gestured to the crutches discarded on the floorboard. The passenger door swung open of its own accord while he spoke, "If you think that's something, go grab a sponge and slick down Ironhide's hubcaps."

Smirking, Sam hastily gathered the crutches in his arms and awkwardly levered himself out of the car. The tank-top girl from earlier paused in her scrubbing long enough to steady Sam as he got situated, bringing a red tinge to the boy's ears. His litany of Mikaela's name became a verbal whisper thereafter, which he muttered even as he shooed the girl back to her task of cleaning the yellow Camaro. Crossing the short distance like a cartoon gorilla, all but hopping on the tall crutches, Sam soon stood next to the tires of a very stoic GMC Topkick.

A bucket abandoned near the front of the truck caught his attention and Sam reached in to find a sponge waiting. Noting the general absence of teens in the immediate area, Sam hesitated only a moment before pulling the sponge from the water. He dropped it in the dirt a split second later when a truck horn blared right next to his ear. "Don't even think it, boy!" Ironhide growled.

Finding himself firmly planted on his rump in the mud by the surprise, Sam smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his dark hair. "They…um…missed a spot?" A sharp rev of the massive truck's engine sent Sam scurrying to the nearest protected point, the open cab of a bright yellow hummer.

Briefly deafened by the ringing in his ears and the hiss of his own breath, Sam jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. Saving himself from toppling by clutching Ratchet's seat, the boy spun to face whoever had intruded in the cab and found a dust buster inches from his face. Waving vacuum like a conductor's baton, a red headed boy laughed, "Man, you should see your face. Your buddy got you good!"

A death glare from silenced the laughing teen who quickly retreated to the task of vacuuming Ratchet's interior. Left to his own means, Sam cast a similar glare in the direction of a certain Camaro. There, a blonde teen sat doubled over in laughter, blissfully unaware of the look promising revenge.

* * *

Several hours and sixty miles down the road, Sam sat curled into the Bumblebee's seat absently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. A jaunty traveling tune from the 30's rolled forth from Bee's speakers in stereophonic twanging splendor, a last ditch effort on the Transformer's part to break the uneasy silence of the human. When even that did not work, the radio crackled and switched off. Sam chose that moment to jerk upright in the seat and slam his good foot down on the breaks, bringing Bumblebee to a skidding halt. Behind them the other Autobots came to similar smoke-spitting halts, Ratchet transforming mid-skid to avoid smashing into Ironhide's rear.

Processor whirring in an attempt to fathom the boy's reason for the sudden stop, Bumblebee practically stuttered, "Primus, Sam! What made you-?"

"Go back," Sam interrupted, "Bee, we have to go back."

"What?" Bee's asked. "Back where?"

Jerking the steering wheel sharply to the left, Sam pumped at a suddenly non-functional gas pedal. Bee did not want any more surprises at the moment. Giving up on his attempts at making the Camaro move, Sam fell back into the seat with a frustrated sigh. "Back up the road a ways. There's a van with its hood up back there and I think I saw kids inside. I can't leave them stranded, Bee."

Racking his memory banks for information regarding such a vehicle, Bumblebee came up empty and stated simply: "What are you talking about Sam? I didn't see any car back there."

"I saw it, Bee. Trust me, we have to go back." Sam still gripped the wheel in both hands, his foot beginning to tap the accelerator once again.

At this, Optimus rolled forward to park himself next to the perturbed yellow Camaro. "Bumblebee, report! What is so important that it merited almost scrapping our weapons officer and our medic?" Rolling on his tires in a shrug the little spy explained Sam's claims of seeing a family in distress, his voice tinged with annoyance at Sam's continued efforts to make him move.

To Bumblebee's surprise, Optimus bobbed in a vehicular nod. "Ah! He is referring to the little Windstar with the smoking engine Ironhide spotted two clicks back. I thought the situation seemed odd."

If he had been in his alt form, Bee's jaw would have dropped. "There _was_ a van back there? How the frag did I miss that?" A rev from Optimus' systems made the mini-bot shudder and he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, how did I miss something so obvious…sir?"

The eighteen-wheeler's engine rumbled his displeasure at the young spy's choice of words, but his voice did not betray the feeling, "Perhaps you were distracted. However, the fact remains that those humans were stranded. If Sam believes they need our help, then we will help." Performing a tight u-turn that belied his disguise as an ordinary diesel, Optimus Prime doubled back on his tracks. Blaring his horn once to attract Ratchet and Ironhide's attention, Prime bellowed his favorite phrase, "Autobots, let's roll out!"

* * *

Wiping sweat away from his eyes with the back of a grimy hand, Sam closed the hood of the Windstar with a weary smile. Mikeala's lessons (and Ratchet's nagging voice in his ear) had made the repair fairly simple…once he had found the duct tape and contorted his way down to the offending part anyway. "There you go, Mr. Neil. That patch should hold until you get into town. You can have a real mechanic handle things from there."

A thinning haired gentleman offered his equally grimy hand for Sam to shake, proffering a lopsided grin, "Truth be told, I just got this hunk of metal back from the mechanic before heading out on this trip, but thanks for the advice. The man must employ or gremlin or two in his service, but like a fool I keep going back to him."

"I would find a new mechanic," Sam laughed as he carefully climbed into Bee. He had left the crutches in Bee's cab and now regretted the action. However, he forced a smile for the sake of the little brunettes smiling from behind the Windstar's glass. Smiling back at them, he offered a final wave, "Take good care of those girls of yours."

Mr. Neil plucked one child from where she sat on Ironhide's running board, offering a salute to the soldier who leaned out the truck window. "Will do, and thanks for watching her for me mister."

Ironhide growled what might have been a 'no problem' before turning his engine. Minutes later, the motley caravan of robots in disguise headed out onto open highway. The Windstar had just disappeared from the rearview mirror when Bee's voice pulled Sam from his revere. "Sam, may I ask a question?"

"You just did," the teen said with a smirk, "but fire away."

Delighted that Sam was talking to him again, Bumblebee practically sang his inquiry, "Just what is a gremlin and what did it have to do with that mechanic the man back there mentioned?"

Sam hesitated before answering, unsure of how to phrase his answer. Leaning back and letting Bumblebee take control of the steering, he finally answered, "Gremlins are an old myth, Bee. They are these weird little creatures that scurry around and cause problems in machines. People like to blame them for all the random problems that come up with their gadgets and whatnot."

Bee tapped the brakes until an impatient blare from Ratchet's horn kept him moving. "They cause problems in machines? You mean like glitches?"

Sam nodded, "Yep, but no worries. Like I said, they are only myths."

The Camaro noticeably shuddered and Sam repeated his earlier statement more forcibly, but Bee cut him off mid-sentence. "Back on Cybertron, these Gremlins of yours were no myth, Sam. They were real and they caused very real problems."

Tilting his head in confusion, Sam leaned forward to rest his arms on the steering wheel. Images of strange little creatures running amidst the burning ruins of alien cities flickered through his mind, but he shook the images off. "Gremlins aren't real, Bee."

"They are!" Bumblebee insisted, giving his internals a frustrated rev. "Optimus told me all about them, and I even saw one myself before Ironhide slagged it." Feeling the vibrations of Sam's silent laughter, Bee's voice took on a slight growl. "Look, back when the Decepticons started this war, we had no name for their faction. They were just 'the other side'. That is, until they unleashed a very deceptive menace loose on us.

"Their scientists designed a race of mini-cons, the smallest bots in existence. They dubbed them 'glitch mice'. These little bots existed for only one purpose, to gain our trust and then tear us apart from the inside out. Through their deception, the 'other side' hoped to end the war in one fell swoop, but their plan backfired. The tiny size of the glitch mice made it impossible for them to slice through our armor plating. So, they never caused any major damage.

"Still, they did serve one purpose. Their deceptive ways gave us a name for 'the other side'. The glitch mice gave us our word for the Decepticons. Noticing that Sam had gone completely still, Bee turned his sensors inward and almost laughed when he found the boy gapping like a fish. Smirking, the spy whispered, "I told you gremlins were real."

Sam only nodded, falling back into the seat with a heavy sigh. "You win, Bee. Gremlins…I mean 'glitch mice'…are real."

A stray thought caught in Sam's mind and he sat up suddenly, making Bee cringe in anticipation of another sudden stop, but none came. Instead, the boy smiled with an odd glint entering his eye. "Can we stop at the next gas station, Bee? I want to get a few supplies and take care of some things."

Recalling the dash for the bushes a few days prior, the Camaro quickly agreed. "Sure thing, Sam. Let me just relay the message along to Optimus and the others."

Sam muttered his thanks and sat back in the seat again, grinning like a cat. Bumblebee had humiliated him by sending him over to Ironhide. Now, it was his turn. Thanks to Bee's glitch mice, he now had held the key for ultimate payback.

* * *

Songs used: "Carwash" by Rose Royce

**The Moonlessnight:** Yet again, sorry for the lateness of this update. The next chapter (hopefully) will not take as long, but no promises. School has me in its teeth and refuses to let go. I do have the next chapter planned out all ready. No worries there.

Let me reiterate, this story will not be left unfinished. I will complete it. I promise.

Note: I am not entirely happy with the this chapter and am liable to rewrite it at a later date. Parts of it seem forced to me, but that just might be my perfectionist side showing through. Anyway... Until the next post! --_grins_--


	14. Soda

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight**Plain and simple words here: I'm sorry this is so late. Thank the light December is around the corner or I might just go a little batty. After five long years, I can sincerely say that I hate school. I hate the papers. I hate the way assignments eat into my time one day after the other. I hate the last minute syllabus changes that send me scurrying to my computer at three in the morning to finish before the new "improved" deadline. –_sighs_–

Oh, and sorry if this chapter seems a little random. I wrote it as it came to me and haven't had a chance to re-work it yet. My mind is spinning with facts memorized for midterms still, so I'm having a hard time digging back down to the place the TF crew resides in. If this gets too OOC, let me know and I will definitely fix it at my next opportunity to write.

* * *

**Soda**

A simple treat, slipped harmlessly under the seat in the most casual of ways. A simple statement, made in polite tones fit to send the finest processor into a state of perpetual fritz. A simple smile, secretly cast towards the floorboard and the treat beneath the chair as they sped along the road to their ultimate destination.

Who knew a string of simple things could lead to such devastating results?

"X equals two. What does 'y' equal?" Bumblebee sighed, sending the text to Ironhide where it scrolled lazily across the mech's HUD. The answer flickered on Bee's screen a nanosecond later, and the Camaro sighed again. "All right, then 'Hide. Let's change games. …I spy with my optical array, something that is a non-conductive, polycarbonate resin encased in a micro-metallic frame."

A pause, then Ironhide's voice spoke over the communication system, "You spy the orange clothed female's optical lenses. Can't you come up with anything more difficult than that? Maybe that string of proteins she's eating?"

Bumblebee sighed for a third time, switching off his comm. and settling in on his wheels. Next to him, Optimus followed suit and threw in a lazy text that read: "Stow the games before one of the humans notices the two sparklings arguing in their parking lot."

This got a derisive rev from Ironhide and a low beep of protest from Bee, who bobbed on his suspension in annoyance. If the protest continued, they might draw the same attention Optimus wished to avoid, or would if the parking lot were not completely and utterly devoid of organic life at that moment. Save for the two clerks and Sam currently inside the small gas station, the area easily qualified as the middle of nowhere U.S.A. The last sparsely populated town faded into the dust an hour ago, making the Autobot leader wonder just where the two station attendants slept when not at work.

Perhaps they lived in the shack behind the station, or maybe forty-five minutes down the road in the next town. If so, the rust laden Toyota the Autobots carefully avoided parking near provided their only transportation to and from their desolate place of work. Eyeing the decrepit looking truck with a wary optic, Optimus shuddered. No, they had to live in the shack out back. No one processing a shred of intelligence would dare to travel in that particular vehicle.

Optimus' vague wondering disappeared when Sam finally emerged from behind the station's foggy glass door, his hands straining to hold the heavy plastic bags swaying from them while simultaneously balancing his weight on the too-tall crutches. He smiled inwardly at Sam's cheery thanks when the door of the yellow Camaro swung open for him, proving the resiliency of humans yet again. Still, fortune heirs the side of caution, so Optimus cleared his throat after Sam dropped the bags in Bee's backseat. The teen spun on his good heel, nearly dropping a crutch in his haste to face the Autobot leader. "If you are finished restocking your supplies, Sam, I do believe Ratchet wanted to see you before we resumed our journey."

Leary of any further scrutiny by Ratchet after his impromptu nap, Sam squared his shoulders and planted both feet squarely on the ground. He opened his mouth to speak only to see a certain yellow hummer roll into view, nodding numbly after only a moment's hesitation. "I'll go, just give me a second to finish squaring things away here."

Leaning back into Bumblebee's cab, Sam tied several of the bags closed to the chance of their contents spilling. Then, he reached for a very specific box to fish out two red cans of frosty, chilled Dr. Pepper. Cracking the seal on one he took a deep drink, discretely slipping the second can under Bee's passenger seat with his free hand. Sighing his contentment, Sam patted the roof of the cab good naturedly and smiled. "Ratchet wants another guinea pig. Wish me luck, Bee." His smiling going suddenly cold, Sam whispered into the cab, "And bee? Look out for any gremlins. The store clerks were talking about some really weird things happening to their slushy machine lately."

The car shuddered under Sam's hand, and he smirked. Thumping the roof one last time, he headed for Ratchet's waiting cabin with a grin upon his face. His plan in motion, he only hoped to avoid Bee's wrath when everything fell into place. 

With that thought in mind, the trip to Ratchet suddenly became the most fortuitous event to happen all day.

* * *

Curling his good foot up underneath him, Sam leaned his head against the window and watched the scenery roll past. Drab browns slowly gave way to the mottled greens of sage and dusty pines as they entered the highland deserts of Arizona, colors similar to those of the healing bruises on his foot. Stretching said foot subconsciously, Sam winced at the memory of the darkly mottled skin lay beneath the wrappings, having gotten his first glimpse when Ratchet changed the bandages earlier. The slight motion did not go unnoticed as a now familiar hologram shimmered into existence next to him. "Are you all right, Sam?" 

"Fine! Fine. I'm fine, Ratchet." Sam said, leaning so far into the door opposite the hologram that Ratchet nearly snorted in derision. Instead, the hologram pointed to the glove box which proceeded to open of its own accord.

"Take an Ibuprofen and relax before I see fit to sedate you again."

Sam hurriedly complied, acquiring the proffered pill and washing it down with the last swig of his soda. "There, happy now?" The hologram nodded, and Sam sank further into his seat. "You're going to have me as pill happy as my dog before this is all over," he groused.

Doing a good imitation of a frustrated parent rolling his eyes, Ratchet sighed. "Fine, then. See if I so much as lift a finger the next time you misstep, or swan-dive, or otherwise make a fool of yourself youngling."

Quirking an eyebrow, Sam cast a quick glance in Ratchet's direction before something outside the window caught his attention. This was a bright green sign proclaiming their crossing of the border into the Coconino National Forest. Sitting up to take in his surroundings more fully, Sam noticed for the first time how far their travels took them from sleepy Tranquility, California. The sun burned hot here, searing the land in ways even the Californian summers did not know. Regal green trees he knew so well faded to sparse ghosts, haunting versions of their western cousins. Even the ground had changed from a rich brown to a rusty red so Martian in appearance that Sam wondered why Ratchet did not demand another round of car washes.

"Are you really all right, Sam?" The question startled Sam from his thoughts and he actually jumped in the seat. Caught off guard and feeling decidedly homesick, Sam sighed and fobbed a half-hearted shrug to the hologram seated next to him.

"Just wondering what Mikaela is up to and if mom remembered to give Mojo his meds, Ratchet," Sam almost whispered.

The hologram-Ratchet shimmered briefly as the real Ratchet bobbed a quick vehicular nod. "I am sure they are both perfectly fine, Sam. In fact, if my calculations are correct, Mojo should be free of his cast by now."

Sam smiled and gave a weak nod, "Yeah. I know. I'm just a little homesick."

"Home what?"

Practically feeling his skin creep with another round of alien medical scans, Sam quickly put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "It's just an expression of speech, Ratchet. It means I miss home." Ratchet's hologram suddenly shimmered quickly out of existence, leaving behind a thoroughly confused teenager. "Um… What did I say?"

Brakes locked in a heart-stopping instant, sending Sam's torso forward to smash painfully against his seatbelt. The unmistakable sound of rubber catching and skipping on rough pavement grated the boy's ears even as the smell of burnt rubber accosted his senses. The hummer spun in seemingly impossible ways, coming to rest facing in the opposite direction it had started. Ironhide's form loomed above the window mere inches from Ratchet's hood, fully transformed and staring down in surprise.

"Ratchet, did you hear what Prime said or were my communications on the fritz?" Ironhide rumbled, massive hands coming down to grip the yellow hood like an overexcited man gripping a companion's shoulders.

"Y-yes," Ratchet stammered, sounding blatantly surprised in his own right.

Gasping as he fought off the adrenaline pumping through his veins, Sam spoke in harsh tones, "If this isn't a life or death emergency, I'm going to dismantle you, Ratchet! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Frag it all, Sam! Shut your mouth for one moment and let me talk to the others." Taken aback at the medic's even harsher tones, the teen virtually melted into the seat.

Rubbing at a growing bruise across his shoulder, Sam nodded and waited until Ratchet finally rumbled a mechanical sigh and revved his engine. "Well, that was indeed an unexpected development."

Snorting and rolling his eyes, Sam crossed his arms. "Tell me about it. Want to give a guy a little warning next time? Maybe a 'brace yourself' or something?"

The hologram shimmered into existence again, arms folded just like Sam's. "The damage to your epidermis is only superficial. It will heal." Holo-Ratchet leaned forward to look at Sam over the rim of its glasses. "You should worry about Prime's message instead. We will have a visitor soon, which makes the completion of mission ARC imperative."

"What?" Sam asked, his arms falling to his sides. "You mean, like, Decepticons?"

Holo-Ratchet blinked and then laughed, "No, Sam. Someone has answered Prime's call. Someone bearing an Autobot encryption code and information that only an Autobot would know. They will arrive in Tranquility one week from today."

Blinking, the teen folded his arms once again. A slow smile crept across his face and he nodded. Amidst the chorus of enthusiastic beeps and whoops from the nearby Autbots he added his own enthusiastic remark, "Well, time's wasting. Let's get this show on the road!"

* * *

An hour later, Sam stepped from Ratchet's cab to stand at the base of a very steep looking trail. Covered in loose black gravel, it looked about as tiring a trek as trudging a mile through knee-high mud. Just so, the teen turned back to Ratchet in disbelief. 

"Please don't tell me I have to climb this. I'm lame here you know?" Tapping the ground with a crutch to emphasize his point, Sam almost ended up flat on his back as his other crutch skittered on the gravel. The lightning fast whir of gears and a well placed finger appearing at his back saved him from an ungraceful fall.

"I already told you, that falling is easy it's getting back up that becomes the problem, becomes the problem." The sound came from Bumblebee's speakers mixed with the mech's suppressed laughter.

"Yeah, that was fun Bee," Sam said sarcastically, leaning into his crutches as though he wanted to sink into his own shoulders. "Thanks."

Bee's laughter slowly drifted off as the mech became distracted with the scans coming in on his HUD. Scooping Sam up into his hands, Bumblebee stood to his full height and turned to face Optimus. "I'm picking up vast amounts of energy just below the surface, Optimus. Magma, I think."

Ratchet approached from the left, nodding his agreement. "Indeed. This planet holds more life than Cybertron has in many vorns. The raw power beneath the crust alone is astounding, especially here."

Ironhide laughed an avalanche of metallic sounding rocks. "I'd expect nothing less from a place named for the captain."

Optimus joined in the laughter, air sucking through his vents in a warm hearted chortle. "Considering his age, I find it more likely that your human's name came from here, Ironhide, not the other way around."

Thoroughly perplexed, Sam leaned into Bee's fingers and looked up at the mech whose optics danced with concealed mirth. "Um… What are they talking about?"

"This place is referred to on your internet as 'Lenox Crater', Sam. They know the captain is not named for this place or vice-versa, but they find the idea amusing. I find it funny, too."

Sam smirked despite himself, letting lose a full throated laugh of his own. Comparing Lenox to a dormant volcano had a certain appeal that even he dare not deny. When the laughter at last died down, Sam nodded to himself. "Well, it looks like the government got things right this time, am I right?"

Ironhide nodded, "The area is secluded enough."

"And there is plenty of energy available to convert to our uses," Ratchet said with a curt nod. "The construction of a medical bay here would be as simple as converting energon to high-grade."

Remembering Ratchet's earlier explanation of energon conversion, Sam only shook his head with a smile. "You mean you'll have two hundred steps instead of two hundred and fifty, right Ratchet?"

"Two hundred thirty-one, to be exact," he replied.

Sam laughed again, shaking his head and wiping away a fake tear, "You guys are priceless, you know that?" Bee cocked his head to one side, preparing to ask what Sam meant and the human held a hand up to halt him. "It's only an expression, Bee. It means I enjoy your company. You make me laugh."

Bumblebee nodded and returned his attention to his scans. Sam settled in, propping his back against Bumblebee's thumb and stretching his legs across the massive palm. Taking a deep breath, he savored the momentary quiet along with the strange vanilla scent of the sun-baked Ponderosas. Before long though, the heat of the place had him squirming uncomfortably in Bumblebee's hand. All the while, something nagged at the back of his mind. The pestering sensation solidified into recognition when Sam realized he was thirsty.

Soda can...summer sun...desert...pending explosion... Oh man!

The soda he left under Bee's seat no longer resided there nestled in the confines of a 'car', but somewhere within a seventeen-foot tall mech. Who knew what kind of damage that soda would cause if the container came open somewhere inside of the spy? Sam shuddered at the thought of an overheated soda can 'popping' in Bee's chest to fry delicate internal workings. Ratchet would kill the teen even if Bee forgave him.

"Aw, crap," Sam muttered the words to himself, guilt quickly overpowering his earlier drive for revenge, "Um, Bumblebee?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Remember the groceries from earlier?" Bumblebee nodded. "Where are they?"

Bumblebee patted a compartment on his arm near where the human sat, "Right here, Sam. I shifted them to my storage compartment during the transformation sequence."

Wincing, Sam shifted a few inches back against Bee's thumb. "And the can of soda I slipped under your seat?"

"You slipped a can under my seat?" Bumblebee tilted his head again before quickly kneeling to set Sam on the ground. "If you left something under my seat, it would have been shunted to a space near my ankle. That doesn't open from the outside. I will have to transform so you can retrieve it."

Hearing the proceedings from his station a few meters away, Ratchet stopped Bumblebee with a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, no you don't! I don't want to spend the next several breems cleaning flavor laced fructose from your innards, Bumblebee. Sam will retrieve this 'soda' from your casing."

"I'll what?" Sam balked, virtually shrinking into his crutches. Ratchet only glared in response, pointing to Bumblebee's ankle with a stern tapping of his foot. Optimus stopped his scans, turning to watch the events unfold behind him with a knowing glint in his optics. Ironhide simply chuckled. The boy stepped in it this time.

Sam hobbled over to the offending panel and carefully put his foot down, shifting his weight several times before finding a comfortable position to stand. Under Ratchet's very precise directions, Sam pried at several hidden cracks to wrench the compartment open. He broke several fingernails, one well below the quick, before hobbling off to find a stick and returning to his work. Finally, with the afternoon sun reaching his hottest point, the compartment popped open…seemingly of its own accord.

Relieved that his task neared completion, Sam reached into the opening almost before Ratchet gave the final instructions on what not to touch. Snaking his hand back around a set of gyros and feeling his fingers brush against sharpened gear teeth, Sam winced. "Bee, buddy, don't you dare move. I don't want to lose any fingers here." The mech nodded and proceeded to shut down the appropriate subroutines, halting all the servos in his foot.

Sunk up to his elbow in Bumblebee's ankle, Sam felt his fingertips brush against a smooth, cold metal. Different from the strange warmth radiated by the metal surrounding it, he painstakingly inched his fingers forward to grip the can's base. "I think I've got it, Ratchet. Do you mind running a quick scan before I pull out some all-important gear or something?"

Ratchet answered a split second later, "That's it, Sam. Bring it out nice and slow, and be careful. Your hand is only a few microns from a high grade line. If that comes lose you will-."

"Don't finish that! I do not want to know." Sam carefully tested his grip on the can, insuring himself of a good hold before slowly inching his arm back. His breath hissed between his teeth as his hand brushed against the sharpened gear again, a thin line of pain tracing its way down the palm of his hand. Hearing gears shift behind him, Sam held up his free hand to halt Ratchet's movement. "Just a scratch, no worries Ratchet. I've almost…. There!" Holding up the slightly dinged soda can like a champion's trophy, Sam grinned. At least, he did until the soda can exploded unceremoniously in his hand.

Fizzing brown liquid shot from the can to rain on Sam and all the gathered mechs, earning groans from human and Autobot alike. When the fizzing fiasco slowed to a drizzle that dripped down Sam's sticky fingers, Ironhide broke into a laughing fit. "I finally get why little Annabelle calls soda 'pop'!" He wheezed between great intakes of air, "That sparkling is wise beyond her orns."

Despite himself, Sam laughed.

Two hours, one meandering stream, and several Cybertronian curses later Sam found himself back in Bumblebee's care. A strip of gauze wrapped around his writing hand, he wondered idly if he really had stepped over the line with his little would-be prank. Optimus' lecture on the responsibilities of "those under his care" reminded Sam of similar lecture given via an angry father for failing a big exam. Meanwhile, Ratchet chewed on his other ear, explaining in gruesome detail what might have happened not only to Bee, but to Sam had that can gone off with the human "in hand".

By the time they had finished their tirades, Sam's ears were ringing…and not just proverbially. Giving a very solemn sigh, he bowed his head and nodded slowly. "I understand. I'm sorry. I swear I will never ever, ever do anything like that again." He shifted his weight slightly to look up, and then thought better of the motion as his foot began to throb. Standing for the last few hours had taken its toll, so he opted to sit in the red dirt instead and crane his neck back to view the mech's reactions.

Bumblebee stood with his arms crossed, every bit the betrayed teenager. Ratchet held a hand to his faceplate and stroked the lines there like a beard, thinking while Optimus merely nodded. "You had better not, Samuel Witwicky," the Autobot leader said, standing at his full height, "The same goes for you, Bumblebee." The yellow spy started in surprise, gazing at Optimus with shocked optics. "Don't think I failed to notice your little prank on Sam back at the car wash. I would usually condone such behavior during times of peace, but the boy is injured."

A mournful sound came from Bee's vocalize and the yellow mech wilted on his feet. At this Sam slowly shook his head. "Don't blame him, Optimus. No harm, no foul right?"

Taking a few seconds to research the expression, Optimus slowly nodded. "Yes. No harm, no foul. Now, I believe we have yet to make a decision concerning this crater as a possible location for our base.

"I have reached a conclusion based on all the fact and figures given to me, and my answer is…no. This location does not meet the prerequisite needs of our forces at this time."

Several metallic jaws hit the soil with an figurative clank, followed closely by one human's head as Sam tilted too far back and toppled over. Sam gapped, "What do you mean, Optimus? Lenox Crater is secluded and has lots of energy to spare. What more do you need?"

"An environment that is not susceptible to wildfires or other such damage caused by pulsar weapons or explosions," Optimus said. "It might not look it, but we are still in a war, Sam. Until the remaining Decepticons are accounted for, that status will not change."

From his position behind the group, Ironhide nodded. "Makes sense to me. Rocks are more fun to blow apart anyway."

Ratchet's hand stilled on his 'beard', optics growing dim for a short instant before he spoke, "I could always set up an energon relay station here in the future. With the proper shielding and camouflage the Decepticons will never know it is here. And…wait… We must avoid flammable terrain? Prime, you know who answered our beacon, don't you?"

Optimus smiled, "An old friend, Ratchet."

Bumblebee slapped his knee with a resounding clang, "Wheeljack!"

* * *

Lyrics taken from "Falling" by Staind.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** I'm evil. I know it. We have two more locations to explore (give or take) and then, hello Wheeljack. Like I said before, I have this whole thing planned out. It's ready to branch into a possible series, too. I just need the time to write it. 

Unfortunately, judging from the amount of papers due in the next month the time to write won't really exist until almost December. Light, do I hate school! Gah! Blame all delays on the teachers who pile on the papers, guys. Sorry.

To all who might be confused by the soda scenario, I live in a desert. Here, soda cans left in the sun for more than a few hours can and do explode. Both randomly and violently. The idea of leaving one in a transformer though…that came from my father during a drive. A flat of soda someone forgot in our back seat exploded, one can after another. This left us ducking and cringing at every bump we hit in the road. Yet, the real icing on the cake came when my dad turned to me and said, "What do you think would happen if you left a soda can in one of the Transformers you like to write about?"

As for the volcano in this chapter, it's a blatant plug to the G1 series. Although, yes, Lenox Crater does exist. One can find it in the same national park as Arizona's Sunset Crater. It is spelled with one less 'n' than the captain's name, but it still sounds the same. Yeah. I am still trying to reconcile that universe with the movie-verse. How am I doing?

EDIT: Corrected the location of Sam's home town. ...And yes. I am still alive and kicking. Just having one heck of a time getting into the swing of things now that school is over. No one ever warned me that life gets even crazier after graduation. -_sighs_- I'm really hoping to have an update ready for you guys before the week is out. Wish me luck. 1/25/08


	15. Hijacked

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this. I also do not own "Star Gate", which belongs to its respective owners.

**The Moonlessnight: **I wouldn't blame you guys if you wanted to string me up by my toes at this point. This update is way beyond late. I know it, and I am very sorry. Let's just say life got really complicated after graduation. You never realize how little you make until you see the bottom line of what college really costs. – _sighs_ – I'll be paying these loans off ten years from now, easy. Can anyone say, "Searching for a second job?" All well….

Thanks for this chapter go to my co-worker, BecStorm, for giving me the ultimate scenario for a certain introduction. If you're reading this, I hope I did your idea justice. – _grins_ –

* * *

**Hij****acked**

"He blew up a what?" Sam asked, pausing in his task of cooking canned beans over a small camp fire. Still sitting exposed at the top of Lenox Crater, he had taken advantage of the situation to make a hot meal. The meal took a great deal longer than expected to prepare since he had neglected to bring a can opener. Thank the light for thirty-foot tall mechs willing to lend a helping fingernail…and the patience of a saint as the human cleaned up the remains of three cans crushed in the name of goodwill.

"Most of the planet and his own aft twice a cycle," Ironhide scoffed, only to receive a quick kick to his leg armor via a nearby medic. Said medic glared at the soldier for a moment, ice blue optics the only part of his face Sam could see in the darkness, before repeating his earlier statement.

"He blew up a wing of-," the sentence devolved into a shrill rolling of sounds too fast and high for Sam to comprehend before ending in perfect English, "a prominent research facility based in Iacon."

Twisting his pinky finger in his ear, Sam furled his brow, "Yeah, that's what I thought you said. No translation for the name of that place, or do you like tormenting me?" Ratchet crossed his arms in a fair approximation of human annoyance, bringing a sigh to Sam's lips. "All right, so Wheeljack blew up an important building in this Iacon place. Why exactly?"

"To prove the existence of gravitons in our planet's atmosphere…or the lack thereof," Ratchet quickly amended. "In short, his little stunt provided our race with the key to interstellar travel."

"Which is?"

"Why, wormhole theory of course!" Bumblebee chirped.

Unable to resist the urge to laugh, Sam settled for a derisive snort and continued stirring his can of beans. "You're pulling my leg," he said, raising his hands in mock defense when Ratchet remarked contrary to the declaration. "It's just an expression, Bee. What I mean to say is look, if you want to go and try to make stuff up then you might as well choose something a little less obvious than 'we traveled through a wormhole to get to Earth'. That's like something off of Star Gate and I just don't go for that kind of stuff."

Running a quick search on the term "Star Gate", Optimus Prime joined in the conversation. "There is some validity to the claims of this fictional 'Star Gate' you refer to Sam, although 'folding space' as they suggest would undoubtedly result in catastrophic gravimetric and dimensional instabilities for the surrounding star systems."

"Like when you crumple a page from a notebook, Sam," Bumblebee offered, recalling on of Sam's more frustrating homework assignments. "The page never lays flat afterwards."

"Indeed," Ratchet chimed in, "which is why gravitons are so important to the equation. They allow the very forces that hold the universe in its tracks to propel one through the vast distances between stars."

Agape, the teenager stared in silence until his dinner bubbled from its container with a gurgling plop. Jerking his hand back before the searing substance reached his fingers, Sam set about fishing the can from the its perch in the embers using a pair of makeshift wooden tongs. Succeeding after only a few small spills and glaring at what little remained in the can; he set his dinner aside in lee of conversation. "You mean to tell me that wormholes aren't just science fiction? You guys actually use them to, you know, travel?"

Optimus nodded, his optics bobbing brightly against the stars overhead, "I assure you that we speak the truth."

Sitting down with the heavy whirring of many gears, Ironhide chuckled. "To think a bunch of humans took out Blackout when they didn't even know how our most rudimentary technology works. If your race ever learns what we mechs know, we'll be in a world of hurt."

Silence descended on the group, leaving Sam to munch slowly on his sparse dinner and contemplate just how primitive humans must seem to the Transformers. The thought gave new perspective on why the Decepticons acted as they did but Sam subconsciously pushed the idea away. He did not fancy thinking too kindly of the aliens that came to destroy, intent on getting to know humanities new protectors instead. Scrapping the last vestiges of baked beans from their blackened metal container, Sam sighed. "So, barring a good night's sleep, where are we heading next? We've been to a junkyard, a salt mine, and this crater. The locales are getting better as we go, so I figure you must be saving the best for last."

Tilting his head so the moonlight glistened off his silver face plating, Optimus actually smiled his optics flickering sky blue. "Two locations remain on the list your government provided. The nearest of these two is a military base with which you might know, Sam."

Racking his brain for any pertinent information, Sam drew forth only images of the base hidden within the Hover Dam. Casting a furtive look at Bumblebee, Sam wondered how the mini-bot would react if taken back into the bowels of that base, where the spy had been brutally tortured by Sector Seven. Seeing the glance and correctly interpreting it, Prime shook his head, "The perspective base is located in Nevada, Sam, not Colorado." Confusion clouded the teenager's face and Optimus Prime sighed in defeat. "The military designation for the base is the 'Groom Lake Facility', but you likely know it by its popular moniker: Area 51."

Sam's leapt to his feet, his sore ankle momentarily forgotten as he violently shook his head, "No way! Not a chance! We are not going within a hundred miles of that place. Do you know what that place is known for? God! Do you want to end up in a million little pieces under some white coat's microscope?"

Confusion now clouding Prime's processor, the Autobot kneeled to peer closely at the boy. Placing a massive hand on the ground less than a foot from the young human, he cocked his head in a plain show of his bewilderment. "You think your government would betray our trust so easily?"

Reminded quite suddenly of the size difference between the races, Sam gulped audibly, "No, no. Just, you know…. Everyone knows that place is alien central. Not exactly the best hiding place if you know what I mean."

Bringing his free hand up to pinch his 'nose' in frustration, Optimus slowly shook his head, "We Autobots pride ourselves on our ability to blend in with the local environs, Sam. To put it simply, we are very good at hiding in plain sight."

Throwing his hands in the air, Sam started pacing. "Which is why you used my lawn as an intergalactic truck stop and smashed up my dad's path? That's not blending in. That's sticking out like a sore thumb." Sam jabbed his thumb in the direction of the woods to emphasize his statement, wincing as the motion stretched the shallow cut on his hand. Unwilling to back down because of a little discomfort, he continued his rant. "Your weapons specialist wanted to blast my dog into oblivion if you don't remember. Heck! You're all so good at hiding that a regular kid like me spotted your best spy transforming to make a report out in the industrial district. What do you think will happen if you guys start using a place like Area 51 as a base? Smarter people than me are obsessed with that place. They'll figure out what you are before they figure out who you are. The crazy ones might just shoot first and ask questions later, you know? I just-. I-."

Sam's ankle reached its limit right about the time Bumblebee's hurt warbling reached his ears. Crumpling to the ground like a tree cut at the base, Sam lay winded and red in the face from more than the pain throbbing in his foot. Gears shifted to his right as Ratchet moved, only to be silenced by the whirring of more gears near his head. "No, Ratchet. Give the boy a moment."

Laying there on the ground, Sam smelled the rich smell of earth and vanilla that made up the scent of northern Arizona pines. The smell coupled with the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears worked to calm him, bringing his words into sharp contrast in his mind. Finally, with a sigh that stirred the dirt in front of his face, Sam gathered his will and rolled onto his back. His body protested the movement so soon after his fall, but the boy swallowed any murmur of complaint as he stared up at the four shapes looming above him.

"Bee, I didn't mean that," Sam said, "You too, Ironhide, Ratchet, Optimus. I don't know what I was thinking."

Optimus lowered the arm that held Ratchet in his place and the medic knelt to perform the scans his programming demanded. Shuttering his optics briefly, Optimus sighed for the third time that night, "No, Sam. You have no need to apologize. What you said hold the ring of truth and that truth cannot be denied." Leaning in close enough for Sam to see the intricate workings of his optical array, the leader of the Autobots gave a ponderous nod. "The actions Sector Seven took against Bumblebee a week ago confirm your feelings. We would be foolish indeed to walk willingly into base of…white coats…as you called them." Words scrolled across Prime's HUD, causing him to stand to his full height. "Bumblebee?"

"Yes, Optimus?"

"Set up a perimeter around our campsite. Since Sam is currently indisposed, we will be spending the night here at the crater. When Ratchet declares him fit, we will leave for our final destination."

"Yes, sir," Bumblebee replied with a curt salute. He cast a quick glance at the boy now cupped from chest to toes under Ratchet's hand. Sam saw the look and cast his own glance at Ratchet who only shook his head with a proverbial click of his tongue.

"I told you to stay off your feet, Sam. Now, you have no choice." Face plates moving in a cruel grin, Ratchet's optics turned icy. "I will stay like this until you either offline of your own volition, or I will offline you myself. Either way, you are not moving from this spot until I say so."

Dropping his head to the ground in weary defeat, Sam closed his eyes. Standing and dusting dirt from his aft, Ironhide laughed. "The kid's smarter than we gave him credit for, eh Hatchet?"

"Indeed," the reply came, "Indeed."

* * *

Meanwhile, not far outside of Tranquility, Nevada….

A comet shot across the night sky like a firefly on steroids, flaring white as it hit earth's atmosphere at unimaginable velocities. A tail formed as millennia of cosmic debris burned away, a trail of blue ice to contrast the red brilliance of flame. Over the lake it streaked, past the lookout point where Sam often wandered, and out into the fields beyond. There, the celestial object skimmed the tops of tall corn stalks to land with a deafening crash just outside the city power plant. Transformers surged, electricity arced through the air, and guards scurried from their posts to see what power had rocked the ground beneath their feet.

Little did they know, that 'power' now stood below a sagging electrical line, a faint blue light emanating from its bizarre skeletal form as it scanned a nearby utility vehicle. A few short minutes later, a brand new 2007, GMC C5500 4 by 2 bucket truck pulled out onto the road and drove serenely away.

The incident, while bearing striking similarities to the events weeks prior, quickly met the kibosh of several military personal bearing papers of authority. The newspapers reported the 'comet' as a recently discovered rogue that harmlessly burned off in the troposphere. The events at the power station became the fault of a mystery technician hired and fired the same day, the resulting brownouts the result of a blown transformer.

* * *

Two days later, a pair of thieves sat huddled on a dark street corner. A white utility truck idled, keys in the ignition and unattended as it had for nearly three hours. Taking a final glance up and down deserted street, the two thugs approached the vehicle with identical smirks upon their faces. Crowbar in hand one hand, slim-Jim in the other; they intended to make off with the expensive tools waiting for them in the idling car's storage bins.

While one shady criminal kept a lookout the other set to work with the crowbar, prying with all the might of burly arms at one bin after another. None gave an inch. Banging on the largest storage compartment in frustration brought a third crook from the shadows. "Hey, Jimmy man," the third said in a hoarse whisper, "Not so loud or someone will hear."

Giving the side of the truck a solid whack, the thief with a crowbar scowled. "These government types are getting smart, Rick. I think they lined the bins with steel or something."

"So," said Rick, grabbing the slim-Jim from Jimmy's hands, "We'll just pop the locks and take this baby back to our garage. The tools there'll make quick work of whatever's in that thing."

Chuckling in a low, hoarse voice, the third crook grinned. "That's why you're the boss, Rick. You're the smart one, no doubts about it."

"Got that right," Rick said, setting to work at slipping the thin piece of metal between the driver's window and the frame of the truck. A few slips of the wrist and one satisfying pop later and the door clicked open. "Everyone in and let's get a move on."

As Jimmy and the lookout piled into the backseat, Rick settled into the driver's seat. His eyes darted quickly to the left and the right, sure that at any moment a cop would spring from the bushes waving a gun. The whole situation smelled of a poorly planned sting, but his boys had been casing the truck for hours without spotting anyone. What fool left their keys in the car and the engine idling in this day and age? Still….

Running his hand along the steering column one last time in search of a hidden kill switch, Ricky sat up straight and put his hands on the wheel and his foot on the gas pedal.

The truck obediently coasted forward as he pressed the accelerator, easing the vehicle out onto the street and down the road. They cleared the street, then the block, and soon the city limits. Smiling to himself as relief sunk in, Ricky thought of the idiot who left the truck unattended in the first place. "Man," he groused, "some smuck is going to pay through the nose for this one. What do you think one of these cherry-pickers cost, Jimmy? $17 k? 20?" He laughed, running his fingers along the stirring wheel. His minions laughed behind him. One of them dropped the heavy crowbar to the floorboard with a clang.

That is when the situation got a little weird.

"You mind picking that up?" An unfamiliar voice said.

The laughter fell silent and Ricky glanced around nervously, looking for the source of the sound. "Aw, crap! I knew this was a setup!" The lookout yelled, pulling the collar of his jacket up in a futile attempt to hide his face. "There must be cameras hidden in here somewhere, man."

The voice spoke again, this time a little louder, "No, there are no cameras anywhere in my interior. Now, will you please pick that metal bar up? I don't like objects that filthy under my seats."

Ricky glanced down at the radio, noticing at last that the sound came from the stereo system. Swallowing hard, he turned the radio off and pasted on a fake grin for his underlings. "Some whack job is playing a trick on us, guys. This is just a recording they put on a CD to scare us."

The truck bobbed underneath him and laughter erupted from speakers that received no signal from the radio. "You think I'm just a recording? By Primus, that's a new one in my books."

Rick slammed on the brakes then, bringing the truck to a screeching halt. "Man, these cops are sick bastards! They rigged up cameras, a secondary sound system, AND hydraulics into this puppy."

"You think this is all cameras, sound systems, and hydraulics huh?" The disembodied voice crooned. Locks clicked suddenly into place, leaving the three criminals scrambling at doors that no longer opened. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Then, the gas pedal hit the floor and the truck sped down the street at speeds that blurred the lights they passed into lines of color. The road curved sharply to the left and the truck veered with it, coming up onto two wheels before righting itself and speeding on. Passengers, bereft of seatbelts slid from one side to the other with painful results as the truck took turn after turn at dangerous speeds. Ricky slammed his foot down on the breaks several times, stopping only when his ankle twisted painful under his weight. His breath hissed between his teeth and he cursed loudly in three different languages.

"Huh," the truck said, "A man with your talent for language should find employment in the communications fields, not stealing trucks. You had enough yet?"

Reduced to tears, the lookout nodded his head vigorously. Jimmy muttered prayers under his breath, now clutching the crow bar to his chest with his feet held stiffly off the floorboards. Rick, tough to the end, gave a single sharp nod.

"Good." The truck stopped so suddenly that Rick felt it fishtail and he clutched the steering wheel for dear life, sure that the truck would flip. It did not and he soon realized that the doors had clicked open. Without a second thought he jumped from the vehicle and ran into the night, leaving his companions to stumble out on their own. They emerged a few seconds later, falling from the passenger side in a tangle of arms and legs. The truck laughed quietly and watched them go, pulling its doors closed with a soft click.

When they disappeared from sight, the truck bobbed once as though nodding in satisfaction. "A bot can't digest a little information in peace on this planet, can he? Download a couple thousand terabytes, grab a quick stasis to sort it, and they up and try to steal you. All well. I guess I should radio in…. Optimus Prime? This is Wheeljack. I've arrived earlier than anticipated and am awaiting your orders.

"Me? Yes, you might say that. The locals here are definitely a colorful bunch, a tad primitive though. Can you believe they haven't discovered gravitons yet? That's the basis of wormhole theory for Primus sake!"

* * *

If you don't know what kind of truck Wheeljack is, do a search on the GMC C5500 model and it'll come up. Not a bad looking truck for what it's designed to do.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** There you go. Say hello to Wheeljack, the first Autobot to be hijacked on his first day on earth. Get it? "Hi, 'Jack"? – grins – It's a poor excuse for a joke. Sorry. Anyway….

Like in previous chapters, this is an attempt to work the movie in with previous TF universes. This time, I tackled the wormhole/space bridge theories. Shameless "Star Gate" plug on describing my take on it because I just love that show. Hopefully, I pulled that off well enough for people to understand what I was getting at. Oh! Yes, I do realize that Sam keeps getting hurt in this story. I just can't keep the kid out of trouble. It's like that character enjoys it or something. Go figure.

I apologize again for the extreme lateness of this chapter. As is, I'm up until three most nights trying to balance work with some semblance of a social life. Then, there are my own personal stories to write as well. I'm working on a rather detailed series right now that I hope to have published some day and, needless to say, it is taking time. So, yeah. Sorry again and I hope to have the next installment of this story up in a much more timely manner. There's only a chapter or two left now barring any random inspiration. We're down to the home stretch.

Thank you to those of you who have stuck with me through all of these delays. Thank you to all the new fans too. Each and every one of you are what keep me writing this story, so pat yourselves on the back and keep on reviewing. – grins like a cat – Until the next post!


	16. Home Field

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.

**The Moonlessnight: **What am I doing? I just finished work, dragged myself home to eat, am so tired I can hardly see straight…and I'm sitting in front of my computer typing. Let me just apologize now for whatever hits the page, especially since this should be some self-defining moment as the first multi-chaptered fan fiction I have ever completed. I feel like I should be dancing the jig or something instead of feeling so worn out. Well…. Here we go….

* * *

**Home Field**

Warm light filtered through sliding blinds to catch and refract from a glass left standing on a hotel nightstand. Thus diverted, the shaft of sunlight found its way to its true target, the sleeping face of the room's occupant, one Samuel James Witwicky. Growling in the distinct way that teenage boy's do, he drew a thick beige blanket over his head and burrowed into the bed. His first night of sleep away from the forest clearing Ratchet had so kindly made him stay in for the last two days would not be ended so easily. Not when he had begged so piteously for a bed and a decent meal. No. He refused to wake…not because of a stray shaft of light anyway. His cell phone ringing brusquely into the morning silence was another matter entirely.

Bereft of a power source for his charger and unwilling to beg the use of the Transformers for such a mundane task, Sam had gone through the trip without the use of his cell phone, a personal record. Now, curled comfortably in a Nevada hotel room listening to the phone ring, he wished he had left it that way. Dark eyes opened and then narrowed at the now unfamiliar sound as Sam awoke, hands scrambling clumsily for the source of noise somewhere to his right. In his haste, the empty glass that perpetrated the sun's magical feat of blinding him ended up tumbling from its perch to roll across the carpet. Growling again in an even lower pitch as he realized where the sound imitated from, Sam plucked his phone from its charger and answered, "H-hello?"

"There you are, Sam," his mother's voice sang from the handset, "Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to call you? You don't call. You don't write. You have your poor mother worried out of her mind! What have you been up to?"

"What have I been up to?" Sam parroted, his free hand rising to rake through his unruly hair. His mind reeled as he tried to remember the excuse Optimus had given his mother over a week ago. So many things had happened since then that his sleep fogged mind drew a blank. So, he turned the question back on her, "What do you think I've been up to, mom?"

His mother, Judy, barked a derisive laugh that made the boy cringe, "Learning to sleep even later than usual, apparently. Don't your police friends keep regular hours? They aren't keeping you up too late, are they?"

The word "police" jarred Sam's memories into place and he fell back onto the bed with a faint smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "No they aren't, mom. They usually send me to bed pretty early." _Earlier than you do actually, thanks to mother-hen-Ratchet. _"Just last night was a special occasion. One of their friends from another prescient called in, an old friend no one here had heard from in a long time. We'll be meeting up with him when we get back to Tranquility in a few days."

"Meet up with him when you get back to Tranquility? Sammy, honey, where are you exactly?"

Sam grimaced, a deep sigh escaping him before he could restrain himself. _Aw, frag! Back to Tranquility…I am such an idiot._ "Um… I'm in a prescient in Fresno?" Sam's hand slid down his face, a finger lodging itself in his mouth as he bit his own knuckle in frustration. _I just lied to mom. Frag, frag, frag, frag, frag. Slag it all to scrap!_

"You're in Fresno?"

His hand left his mouth, slamming into a jean pocket instead while Sam stood and paced. "Yeah, I'm in Fresno. Tranquility is just too…tranquil, you know? Prime wanted to show me what life is like outside of my hometown."

"Prime?"

_Slag! Just dig yourself deeper and deeper into the hole, Sammy._ "Yeah, mom. Prime is what we call the captain here. Since he's like, you know the 'prime' example of what a good guy should be?" _She'll never buy it. Not in a million years will she buy it._

"Oh, Sam," Judy practically crowed, "Sounds like you have made a new friend. I'm so happy for you! You hear that, Ron? Sammy's made a new friend."

His dad's voice dragged over the line in a bored mono-tone, "That's nice dear. Have you seen my garden trowel? This path won't fix itself you know?"

Judy sighed, "In the pantry, dear. You left it there when you fixed that sandwich for yourself yesterday."

"Thanks honey."

Sam sighed, more from relief than anything else. "All right then, mom. I'll let you guys get back to your path repair. I've got to go get ready for the next patrol with Captain Prime."

"You do that then, honey," Judy paused for a moment and Sam prepared for the usual 'remember to' tirade that accompanied every phone conversation with his mother while he was away from home. The tirade did not come, replaced instead by a surprise. "Oh! I almost forgot, Sammy dear, your friend Miles came over yesterday. I told him you were away on a special ride-along, of which I am very proud by the way. He said 'cool' like you teenagers do, and then he asked to use your computer for his school paper. You remembered to do your paper, right Sam? Of course you did.

"Well, I said to go right ahead since you two are friends. He spent hours up there working on that assignment. I hope you don't mind, honey?" Sam's jaw dropped as images of the last time Miles had done an 'assignment' on his computer playing before his eyes. It had taken weeks to clean the resulting viruses from the system. Judy rushed on, "He left in a bit of a hurry, but he remembered to say thank you. Such a nice boy, that Miles, and such a good friend you are for letting him use your computer for his homework. Well, I better let you get ready for your 'patrol'.

"I love you, Sammy!"

"Yeah, love you too mom. See you soon." Sam answered, the words forming on automatic as his mind reeled. The line clicked as his mom hung up and Sam plopped onto the ground with a soft thud.

Staring at the glass where it had rolled near the patio window, he watched the light refracted there become smoke in his mind's eye. Smoke from the smoldering remains of his precious computer, where so many hopes and dreams lay hidden. If Miles deleted his secret stash of girl themed photographs, he did not know what he might do.

* * *

Stretching with several pleasant pops, Sam yawned one last time before plopping into the driver's seat with a sigh. Running his hands lightly over the steering wheel, he placed the key in 

the ignition of the Camero and smiled as the engine rumbled in greeting before the key fully turned. "Good morning to you, too Bee," the teen laughed, "You have a good night's rest?" The engine revved again in response, rumbling like a deep-throated cat purring its contentment. "I'll take that as a yes. So, where are we heading next?"

Speakers crackled briefly as the tuner settled on a voice tinted with a distinctly county twang. "Country roads, take me home / To the place, I belong." (1)

"We're heading home?" Sam muttered with a tilt of his head. "I thought there was one last place to visit?" The song continued uninterrupted, Bee revving quietly as though chuckling at a hidden joke. Sam harrumphed and crossed his arms. "Well, home is good. I've got to get home soon anyways so I can kill Miles."

The song ripped to static, snapping into silence a few seconds later when Bumblebee spoke, "He say something in the communication you received earlier to upset you?" Sam shook his head, brows furling briefly as he wondered how Bee had known about the phone call. Bee answered the thought. "I monitor radio frequencies, Sam. It's a spy thing. I didn't listen in though, so tell me what he said."

"He didn't say anything. Mom's the one who called." Leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes, the boy sighed. "It's just that…well… Mom let Miles use my computer yesterday and let's just say the guy has a knack for downloading every virus on the net. I'll be surprise if my desktop isn't a smoking heap by the time we get home."

"Your computer has a virus?" Bumblebee's voice carried a strange lilt, the sound of his customary mirth slipping beneath a thin veneer of seriousness. "If that's what has your chips in a snarl, then relax. If your computer really is ill, Ratchet can fix it up in half a breem."

Sam balked, his jaw going slack and an eyebrow inching ever closer to his hairline. Unable to suppress the image of his desktop sporting an ice bag on its monitor and a worried Ratchet leaning over it, the young teen soon found himself doubled up in laughter. "You just made my day, Bee. Just, wow."

"I was being serious, Sam." The indignation in Bumblebee's voice served only to bring on another onslaught of laughter from the teen.

"I know, Bee. I know, but I just… you don't want to know what went through my mind just now. Ratchet and my computer! This is just priceless, Bee."

In his alt-mode, unable to quirk an optical ridge at his charge's behavior, Bumblebee settled for a vehicular sigh. The search and rescue hummer parked to his left tilted slightly on its wheels, like a man shifting impatiently on his feet. After a few minutes of listening to the commotion in the yellow Camero's interior, Ratchet sighed, "Bumblebee, what malfunction did you cause in the human this time?"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Tranquility –

A white utility truck rolled serenely up the street, past the town lake and out into fields beyond. Soon it rolled to a stop in front of a familiar field, standing stones on one end and the forest edge at the other. Relaying a quick query to a cohort in Nevada, an eerie blue light emitted from the truck and swept the surrounding area. When the query came back affirmative, the blue light faded and the truck turned into the field and that is when things got really weird.

The truck shifted shapes, metal sliding against metal until a tall being stood in its place. The bucket that once graced the back of the truck now curved in sleek lines to nestle at the joint of an enormous elbow, a protective padding meant shield delicate innards as the scientist leaned low to work. Silver storage bins ringed arms of white like the reflective tape of a hazmat's jacket, leading to hands tipped in the same silver tones. These hands reached to brush lightly against the polished surface of a panel that could only be described as an ear, sliding a dark mask into place over the mech's thin featured face.

Kneeling once to retrieve an oddly shaped bar from a bin near its ankle the mech approached the standing rocks with an almost boyish skip in its step. It disappeared behind the rocks. Blue light arced into the sky. Rocks grated. The ground shook. Then, silence fell over the field.

* * *

"Tranquility City Limits," Sam read the sign with a quiet intonation, sighing as he did. "Well, we're home Bee. Where's this final destination?"

Bee did not answer. Sam did not expect him to. The game had started several miles back with a snicker from Bumblebee and a knowing bob of Ratchet's chassis. Ironhide actually chortled and Optimus Prime swayed slightly in a happy shrug of his "shoulders". Having spent several days watching the Autobots on the road, Sam had become rather skilled at spotting such signals between the alt-form mechs. Where ever they were going, they intended to keep it a surprise.

Settling in for the ride, Sam watched as the forest thinned outside the window giving way to more urban areas. Houses appeared between the trees. Businesses soon followed with neighborhoods close behind. Shortly the motley convoy entered familiar territory and Sam straightened in his seat. His neighborhood came and went, and then his school, and then…then a familiar field came into view. The field where this entire trip had started with his unceremonious "tossing of his chips" that night nearly two weeks back. Only now, the field practically crawled with life in the form of many official looking people and one tall mech.

Optimus blasted his horn, people turned, and the mech waved in a cheery hello. Bumblebee rolled to a stop, popping the door open just in time for Sam to hear the new-comer speak. "Optimus Prime, it has been a long time, old friend. I haven't seen you since before the loss of the All Spark, if I'm not correct."

Shifting as he spoke, Optimus beamed. "It has been longer than that, Wheeljack. Welcome to Earth." Metal clanged and clinked as the two shook hands, a gesture Sam found very human after all he had learned of them over the last few weeks. Then, Prime shifted his stance and looked down at all the humans gathered at his feet. Sam looked too, recognizing the uniforms of military and politician alike. Prime chuckled, "I trust you have kept our human companions entertained, Wheeljack?"

Wheeljack rubbed in an almost playful manner at the mask covering his features and fobbed a shrug, yet another gesture learned from his short time with the humans. "What can I say? This lot is easily entertained. They showed up a joor after the foundation was laid and haven't left since."

"Who could blame them?" A familiar voice called over the den of chattering military scientists. Stepping from Bee's cabin to peer through the crowd, Sam caught sight of Will Lennox standing nonchalantly at their center. "You guys are really amazing, Optimus. What you've done here in such a short time is astounding, and that's not just some dumb soldier talking either. Any of these eggheads would agree with me if they weren't so busy tossing theories around." Seeing Sam standing next to the Camero, Will smiled. "Hey kid, how are you doing? Enjoy your little trip?"

Blinking in confusion, Sam took his eyes from the gargantuan new mech just in time to see Will's arm slip over his shoulders. Just how the man had maneuvered through the crowd so quickly, the teen did now know. Still looking around in an attempt to piece together the conversation, Sam nodded. "Yeah I did, once Ratchet finished babysitting me, anyway. Now, what are you guys talking about? You said something about foundations and amazing stuff? Where? All I see is the same field we left two weeks back."

Wheeljack laughed. "A bit slow, isn't he?" At Bumblebee's objections, 'Jack held up his hands in mock defeat. "No offence meant, Bumblebee or…Sam was it?"

"Ah, yes. Introductions are in order. I apologize." Optimus said, smiling in his way. "Samuel James Witwicky, this is Wheeljack. He is the best scientist Cybertron has to offer."

"Pleased to meet you," Wheeljack said with a slight tilt of his head.

Sam only shook his head again. "I know that. I was expecting him. We covered that. Now, where is this stuff Captain Lennox was talking about? Who are all these people?"

The last of Sam's words came out a little loud, bringing an uneasy silence in their wake. The boy shifted uneasily, glancing around nervously. Optimus only smiled. "Wheeljack, do you care to show the boy around or shall I?"

"I would be honored."

Ratchet transformed and rolled his optics in annoyance. Stepping up to stand beside Wheeljack, the medic nodded in Sam's direction. "I'll be tagging along if you don't mind. I'll not have you overloading Sam's circuits or, worse, showing him any of your experiments."

As they walked together into the ordinary looking stand of rocks, Sam vaguely heard Ironhide laughing in the distance. "Hatchet has a new pet."

* * *

Over an hour and a half later, Sam sat dumbfounded in an empty hanger larger than two football fields in length and nearly fifty feet high. Light filtered down from off glowing filaments in the ceiling, a living metal Wheeljack dubbed "luma-steel". In truth, everything in the place was alive according to 'Jack, from the floor to the ceiling and back again. Composed of the self-same nanites that covered the shell of every Transformer, the walls themselves breathed. They lived off the energy of the local environs, or something like that. Sam did not know for sure anymore. His head swam with the size of the place, let alone the details of how it came into being half a mile below the field in the space of a few short days.

"The base is far from done," Wheeljack was saying, "There's still the installation of Teletran One to see to, the med lab for Ratchet, and the arrangement of quarters for starters. In a few weeks, I'll have this place up to operational standards. What do you think, Sam?"

Somehow managing to move despite the overwhelming feeling of awe, the teenager nodded. Wheeljack and Optimus smiled, Ironhide rumbled a deep chuckle, Bumblebee laughed, and Ratchet sighed.

"Welcome to the A.R.C." Ratchet muttered, kneeling to scoop the boy into his massive hands.

"Indeed," Optimus chortled. "Welcome home, everyone."

* * *

(1) "Country Roads" by John Denver.

* * *

**The Moonlessnight:** Ah! A good night's (--cough-- morning's) sleep so I could re-read this with a fresh mind before posting it and I feel much better.

The beginning of this chapter was inspired by a comment left on Vaeru's "Juxtaposition". Something along the lines of, "I hope your computer gets well soon." Leave it to a TF fan to hope a computer 'gets well' soon. –_grins_—

I hope this ending works for now. I might write an epilogue of some kind later, but for now that strikes me as good a place as any to end this story. I want to offer a very big thank you to all of you who have stuck with me to the end and an extra big thank you to all of you who reviewed. 

You have made this story the single most outstanding accomplishment to date for me here on this site. Here's to hoping my future endeavors fair as well. Heck. I hope my personal stories fair at least half as well.

Thank you all. You have made this a wonderful experience for me, for which I am grateful. Until the next story!


End file.
